


Kidnapped! (Again, Stiles?)

by Anxiety_Baker02



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Fluff, He doesn’t like them but Derek does, Insecure Stiles Stilinski, I’m bad at tagging sorry, Like suuuuuper Oblivious Stiles, M/M, Mutual Pining, Oblivious Derek, Oblivious Stiles Stilinski, Scott is a Good Friend, Sort Of, Stiles has glasses, angst if you squint, kidnappings, not really tho, not super obvious but not totally ignorable either, rating for later chapters: implied smut and slight violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-04
Updated: 2019-05-13
Packaged: 2019-10-22 03:23:18
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 24,753
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17655128
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Anxiety_Baker02/pseuds/Anxiety_Baker02
Summary: When you fall in love with your soulmate, a soulmark appears on your arm. Stiles’ soulmark has been appearing for over six months, which just means he’s falling in love slowly. But there’s one problem- he doesn’t know who it is!Or:Everyone except Stiles (and who he’s in love with) knows who it is.Also, Stiles gets kidnapped once or twice, but whatever.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Sorry if this is crappy, it’s one in the morning and I’m really tired, didn’t do a big check for spelling errors. Hope you like it though!

Stiles looked at the clock and groaned, rubbing at his eyes.

“We’ve been at this for hours,” he complained, trying to stifle a yawn. “And we haven’t found anything.”

“Really? I hadn’t noticed,” Derek said grumpily, scowling down at the book in his hands.

“Looks like someone needs a nap.”

“It’s two in the morning, Stiles, and I haven’t slept in two days. We need to go to bed.”

Stiles rubbed his eyes and yawned again. “But...research,” he protested weakly.

“Your eyes aren’t even open,” Derek pointed out.

Stiles snapped his eyes open, not even aware of closing them in the first place.

“Yeah, okay.” Stiles stumbled up from the couch. “Where are my keys?”

Derek raised an eyebrow at him. “You are not driving home.”

“What? Why? Are you kidnapping me?”

Derek rolled his eyes. “ _No_ , dumbass. If you drive home, you’ll fall asleep at the wheel and wreck. I’ll get you a blanket and you can crash on the couch.”

Stiles blinked, absentmindedly scratching at his forearm. “Oh. Thanks.”

Derek nodded stiffly, then yawned and stood up, walking down the hall.

Stiles cleaned up all the books and papers, neatly piling them in his bag, then fired off a quick text to his dad who was luckily on the night shift.

_Too tired to drive home, crashing at Derek’s._

His dad answered immediately.

 **Dad** : _have fun, be safe_

Stiles rolled his eyes, but he was too tired to even reply properly. He sent an eye-roll emoji, then collapsed face first on the couch with a tired grunt. He was asleep before he could be bothered to even think about pajamas.

* * *

 

When Stiles woke up, it was only six o’clock. He groaned and sat up, looking around blearily. There was a blanket covering him, and a pillow where his head had been, and Stiles blinked. Derek must have done that after Stiles fell asleep, which gave Stiles a little thrill in his stomach that he pushed aside.

The loft was silent, and once Stiles got up he found a note on the counter.

_Stiles-_

_Went to work. Not much food in cabinets but help yourself. You can stay if you want to keep working, but if you leave_ _lock the door._

_-Derek_

_P.S. You snore._

Stiles squawked indignantly, even though there was no one to hear him. He pulled out his phone.

_I do not snore!_

He hesitated, then added, _but thanks for letting me crash._

He pocketed his phone and went to inspect the cabinets- there really wasn’t much; some cereal that was probably stale, some crackers, peanut butter, and a few boxes of pasta. In the fridge was milk, orange juice, and water.

Stiles shook his head, then sent another text to Derek.

_U really need to go to the store, dude_

Derek answered almost immediately.

 **Derek** : _you totally do. And anytime. If you died falling asleep while driving bc I wouldn’t let u stay, your dad would kill me. Or at least fire me._

Stiles snorted, and another text came in.

 **Derek** : _Also shut up, I’ve been a little busy lately. Speaking of, I have to get back to work._

Stiles grinned to himself and put his phone in his pocket.

Stiles had a bowl of the stale cereal, then folded the blanket and stacked his pillow on top. He cleaned up his dishes and then left, making sure to lock the door behind him.

He drove home and spread out the research on the table.

He groaned, just thinking about the headache he was bound to get.

There had been five individual murders through town, and they were possibly supernatural-ish. A man who had gone into witness protection after seeing one of them said that the woman had leapt twelve feet into the air and that her hair was made of fire. Between the fast speed (teleporting?) and the jumping (werewolf?) and the fire hair (?), they couldn’t figure it out.

Stiles was skeptical, because the man had seemed off his rocker- probably on drugs or whatever.

But they still hadn’t caught the perp(s), meaning...research. The sheriff had been working almost twenty-four/seven for the last three weeks, along with the deputy. Who happened to be Derek. So while they did the police work, Stiles (and sometimes Scott) did the supernatural research. Derek would help when he wasn’t working. The rest of the pack had been sniffing around, but so far none of them had come up with _anything_. And Stiles was getting frustrated.

He poured himself a cup of coffee, then got to work.

* * *

 

He didn’t take a break until his stomach began growling so loud he couldn’t ignore it anymore. He searched through the cabinets and fridge, but there wasn’t anything that could be considered a meal.

Stiles sighed, rolling out the kinks in his neck. He didn’t know why he was surprised, it wasn’t like his dad had time to go to the store.

So he made a list, grabbed his keys, and drove to the store.

He was putting a bag of apples in the cart when someone smacked directly into his back. He fell forwards, spilling his basket and smacking his forehead against the shelves. He wound up on the ground, staring at the ceiling dazedly.

“Oh my gosh, I am so sorry! I can be so clumsy.”

Stiles sat up with a grunt, blinking at the woman. He shrugged, accepting her hand up.

“It’s alright, I’m usually tripping over nothing anyway. Now I have an excuse.”

He grinned at her reassuringly, and she smiled sheepishly. She was probably in her late twenties or early thirties- either way, she was definitely a few years older than Derek. She had bright green eyes and orangey-red hair.

“At least let me help,” she said, bending down to pick up his groceries. “My name is Kelly, by the way.”

Stiles knelt down to help. “I’m Stiles.”

She looked at him sideways. “Oh, you’re the sheriff’s son?”

Stiles nodded. “Yep. You new in town?”

Kelly smiled and nodded. “Yeah, but I don’t think I’m staying long. I have a few things to take care of first, though.”

“Cool. Thanks.”

Kelly handed him his basket.

“Of course. It was my fault, I’m sorry again.”

“No worries.” Stiles shrugged.

Kelly smiled again. “It was very nice meeting you, Stiles.”

She held out a hand, and Stiles shook it.

“You too, Kelly.”

And then she walked away.

Stiles stood there, blinking, for a few moments. Either he needed sleep, or that was just really weird. He shrugged and opted for both, then finished his shopping.

* * *

 

“What the hell happened to you?”

Stiles jolted awake at the loud voice, extremely disoriented. There was something stuck to his face, and Stiles pulled it off, cringing. A piece of paper, now ruined by drool.

There was a snort from behind him.

Stiles looked over his shoulder and found Scott leaning against the counter, looking slightly concerned- but mostly amused. There were burnt towels and charred pans scattered over the counter.

Stiles grimaced. “I burnt dinner, almost burnt the house down, nothing new. What time is it?”

“Uh, sevenish? And I meant to your head.”

Stiles groaned. “You mean I’ve only been asleep for half an hour?”

Scott shrugged. “I only just got here, but it looks like it. You look like shit. _And what happened to your head?”_

“Gee, thanks. And I dunno what you’re talking about.”

Scott rolled his eyes and pointed at Stiles forehead. Stiles touched it and winced.

“Right. Some lady bumped into me at the store and I hit my head on the shelves. Is it bad?”

“You have a bruise the size of Texas, but otherwise no.”

Stiles yawned, scratching at his forearm. “Okay. Why are you here?”

“Mom told me to see if you were still alive, because you haven’t answered any of my texts or calls for the last day and a half.”

Stiles blinked, then looked for his phone.

“Sorry. Must’ve died.”

Scott shrugged. “I figured. Come on, Mom said to bring you over.”

Stiles pushed himself to his feet. “M’kay. Just let me…”

He started gathering up the research.

“No. Come on, you need a break. No research.”

“But-”

“No,” Scott said firmly, already steering Stiles out the door. Stiles was too tired to put up much of a fight.

He must’ve dozed in the car, because the next thing he knew Scott was slapping his arm and he was stumbling into the McCall house.

“Oh, good. I made you breakfast,” Melissa said cheerfully as he sat at the table.

Stiles mumbled out a thanks as she set a plate of waffles in front of him.

Apparently, he was really hungry because he practically _inhaled_ the waffles.

Melissa just shook her head and gave him some more, which he also inhaled.

“Dude. When was the last time you ate?” Scott asked, looking horrified.

“I had some stale cereal at Derek’s yesterday morning, and I had an apple last night.”

Stiles winced as Melissa smacked his head.

“Ow! Hey!”

“And how much sleep have you gotten?”

Stiles shrugged. “Eight hours.”

Melissa raised an eyebrow at him.

“...Over the last week,” Stiles added sheepishly.

Melissa frowned at him. “Go take a nap.”

“I’m fine! Seriously, don’t worry.”

Melissa stared at him for a moment, then wordlessly pointed up the stairs. Stiles grudgingly gave in and trudged into the guest room.

When he woke up, it was well into the afternoon. Melissa was at work, but Scott was sitting in the living room, watching tv.

“Oh, good, you’re up. Mom said to make you eat, but I’ll leave that up to you. Wanna play a video game?”

“Hell yeah,” Stiles said, grinning and flopping on the couch.

Two hours later, Stiles threw his arms up in victory when he beat Scott again.

Scott groaned. “Since when are you so good at this?”

Stiles shrugged, grinning.

“What the hell is that?” Scott asked suddenly.

Stiles quickly pulled his sleeve down. “Nothing.”

“Bullshit,” Scott said, trying to grab Stiles wrist.

“Hey! Stop that!”

Scott lunged, and Stiles tried to roll away. They fell off the couch yelling. Stiles made another attempt to get away, but Scott scrambled on top of him, pinning him down and yanking up his sleeve.

Stiles thunked his head down on to the floor in defeat, sighing resignedly.

“What the _hell_ , Stiles!” Scott exclaimed, clambering off of him and looking at him indignantly.

“It’s not a big-”

“Shut up. I can’t _believe_ you didn’t tell me you got a soulmark!”

Stiles sat up, looking at his best friend guiltily.

“Look, I’m sorry. I’m just...I’m embarrassed, okay?”

Scott tilted his head. “Why? Because you’re in love? Stiles, it’s a normal-”

“No, that’s not-” Stiles sighed. “I just. I don’t know who it is,” he mumbled, biting his lip and looking down at the ground.

“You...don’t know who it is,” Scott said slowly.

Stiles shook his head.

“When did it appear?”

Stiles shrugged. “Over the last few months. Like, six months?”

“Six months!” Scott screeched. “I told you within an _hour_ of getting mine!”

“I know! Okay, I know. But it’s different than with you and Kira!”

“How?”

Stiles held out his arm for Scott to see again. “Because it’s at first I thought it was an ink smudge or something, but it kept getting bigger and darker. See? It’s still not fully formed yet. I obviously don’t know what shape it is, and there aren’t any initials yet. And it’s stupid, because I know they only appear when you fall in love with your soulmate, but I don’t know who I’m in love with. I’ve met my soulmate, I’ve known them for at least six months, and I don’t know who it is!”

Scott scoffed in disbelief. “Are you serious?”

“Yeah,” Stiles muttered.

“Holy shit, you’re stupid.”

Stiles scowled. “No need to rub it in.”

“No, that’s not what I meant. I just meant that you’re the only one who doesn’t know who you’re in love with.”

Stiles whipped his head up to look at Scott.

“ _What?!”_

“Well, except your soulmate. They’re just as stupid as you.”

Stiles blinked owlishly. “Who is it?”

Scott shook his head. “I’m sorry, bud. You have to figure it out yourself.”

Stiles gaped at him. “What the fuck kind of answer is that?!”

Scott shrugged. His offended look has morphed into a smug _I told you so,_ except Stiles didn’t know what he had been told.

“I hate you,” Stiles muttered, climbing back on the couch.

“You’ll figure it out soon enough,” Scott said.

Stiles scowled. “Whatever. Another round?”

“You’re on.”

* * *

 

To his surprise, Stiles’ dad was already home by the time Stiles got there.

“You’re home early,” Stiles called as he walked through the door.

“Yeah, we needed a break,” John answered from in the kitchen. “Worked all through the night. Where have you been?”

“Scott kidnapped me. Well, Melissa made him kidnap me.”

Stiles found his dad in the kitchen, attempting to cut up some vegetables. Stiles rolled his eyes and pushed him away, taking over.

“Because you hadn’t slept?”

Stiles nodded. “Or eaten. I took a nap, and a break from the research.”

“That’s good. You’ve been working hard.”

“Yeah, so have you. After dinner, you need to go to bed.”

“We were planning on watching the game after dinner, actually.”

Stiles jumped and whipped around, nearly chopping off a finger in the process.

He glared and waved the knife at Derek.

“Why do you always sneak up on me?”

Derek rolled his eyes, looking amused.

“Sorry,” he said, not sounding sorry at all.

Stiles rolled his eyes. He wasn’t sure why he was surprised- Derek had been coming over for dinner more often than not at this point. He and the Sheriff had gotten pretty friendly since Derek became a deputy.

“What’d you do to your head?” Derek asked, looking at him curiously.

Stiles winced, embarrassed. “I went to the store last night and some lady knocked into me. I hit my head on the shelves.”

“Stiles,” his dad started, obviously trying not to laugh.

Stiles heaved a sigh and went back to his vegetables. “I don’t have a concussion, Melissa checked me out. And it totally wasn’t my fault! She was like, freakishly strong.”

Derek snorted and Stiles glared at him. “Shut up and help me with dinner.”

Derek rolled his eyes again, but he started making the salad.

* * *

 

“What are your plans for tomorrow?” The Sheriff asked Stiles while the ate.

Stiles huffed. “I have to go to the library because we’ve gone through all the books except one, and unless I find a creature with fire hair who can jump twelve feet into the air and move at the speed of light in that one, we need more research.”

“Don’t forget, the guy was most likely drugged, Stiles. Maybe give some leeway in the description.”

Stiles sighed.

“Maybe talk to Deaton?” Derek suggested through a mouthful of chicken.

“I already did. He doesn’t have any ideas. And I need to bring the Jeep into the shop tomorrow, so I’m going to be stuck in town until I can get a ride home.”

“I can give you a lift on my dinner break,” John offered.

“Thanks. I’ll hang out in town until then, probably,” Stiles said, finishing the last of his dinner.

“What time are we going in?” Derek asked the Sheriff, absently scratching at his forearm.

John shook his head tiredly. “Six, probably. This... _thing_ has murdered five people in two weeks, and if we don’t catch it, there’s going to be more.”

Derek nodded, then he started clearing the table. Stiles helped him, and then when his father and Derek went to watch the game, he pulled out the last book he had to read. He looked at it mournfully- it was like, half a foot thick. He sighed through his nose, then pulled out his notebook, put his headphones in, and got to work.

He wasn’t sure how much time had passed, but he was only a hundred pages into the book when his dad patted his shoulder.

Stiles rubbed his eyes, pulling out an earbud.

“I’m going to bed. Don’t stay up too late.”

Stiles bobbed his head, but his dad wasn’t done.

“And when you ignore me and stay up too late reading, be quiet about it. Derek’s crashing on the couch.”

Stiles blinked, then craned his head to see into the living room. Derek was indeed passed out on the couch, mouth wide open and snoring.

“I’m totally going to give him shit for this.”

John rolled his eyes at his son.

Stiles smiled. “Night, Dad.”

His dad ruffled his hair before heading upstairs. Stiles put his headphones back in and pumped it up to full volume, reluctantly getting back to the book.

* * *

 

_Chemosignals allow werewolves to sense certain strong emotions._

_Chemosignals allow werewolves to sense certain strong emotions._

_Chemosignals allow werewolves to sense certain strong emotions._

_Chemosignals allow werewolves to sense certain strong emotions._

Stiles rubbed his eyes tiredly. He had been reading the same line over and over, and of course it was something he had known for years. He had meant to skip over the werewolf chapter, but sometime around one in the morning, he had started dozing.

He jumped when a mug was set down in front of him.

He took his headphones out and stared over at Derek.

“Sorry, did I wake you?”

Derek shook his head, sitting down with his own mug. He was still in his uniform.

“Needed to use the bathroom. Saw you about to faceplant into the book, figured you could use some coffee.”

Stiles blinked, then took the mug. The coffee was made exactly how he liked it.

“Oh. Thank you.”

Derek shrugged, then started drinking his own coffee.

Stiles raised an eyebrow. “Shouldn’t you be going back to sleep?”

“Already awake, might as well keep you company.”

Stiles fought back a grin and rubbed at his arm.

“In that case, read over these and tell me if you figure anything out.”

Stiles shoved a stack of his notes at Derek. He took them and began reading through them without complaint.

It took Stiles longer than it should have to realize why his eyes were hurting so badly.

“I’ll be right back,” he mumbled to Derek.

He tiredly made his way into the bathroom, and then attempted to take out his contacts. It took him over five minutes to get them out, his eyes were so dry. He hadn’t taken them out in like, three days, and combined with all the reading he was doing explained why his eyes were killing him. He put in some eye drops then slipped his glasses on.

He was about to head back out when his gaze dropped to his arm. He rolled back his sleeve and stared at his soulmark, frowning.

It had gotten darker, and it almost looked like it was taking on a shape. He groaned in frustration- there were still no initials, and he was no closer to figuring out who it was, especially working on this case. The only people he had talked to in the last week were his father, Scott, Melissa, and Derek. Well, Kelly too, but she didn’t count- he had met her way after the mark started forming. Either way, it obviously wasn’t any of them; Melissa and John, obviously, that’s just gross. And Scott was Scott, and he had Kira. And Derek…

Stiles paused, scrunching up his nose. Then he shook his head, laughing to himself. He really needed sleep. He shook his head and went back to the table.

“Alright, so-”

“Are you wearing glasses?” Derek blurted out.

Stiles glanced at him. “Uh. Yeah?”

Derek was looking at him strangely. “When did you get glasses?”

“About eight years ago?”

Derek stared at him like he had grown another head.

“How have I never seen you wearing glasses?”

Stiles flushed and shifted uncomfortably. “I uh...I used to get teased about them a lot. I hate wearing them, so I don’t usually, when I’m around anyone other than Scott or my dad.”

Derek frowned. “Who teased you?”

Stiles shrugged.

“Just kids. You know how high school is. Leaves you with lifelong insecurities and all that.”

Stiles looked back down at his book, kind of embarrassed when his joke (not really a joke) fell flat.

“They suit you.”

Stiles’ snapped his head back up to look at Derek, but Derek was already back to reading the notes. The lighting in the room almost made it look like Derek’s face was flushed. Huh.

“Thanks,” Stiles said softly after a moment, and then they went back to the research.

Five and a half hours later, John came downstairs to find the two of them pouring over the last pages of the book, four more empty mugs discarded on the table.

“I told you not to stay up too late,” John said, sighing in resignation.

“You also told me that you knew I wouldn’t listen,” Stiles pointed out.

“No, I said that when you don’t listen, don’t wake Derek. Which you did.”

“I did not!” Stiles protested.

“He really didn’t, sir. I woke up around one, and he was still awake, so I figured I’d help. But we still haven’t found anything,” Derek said in frustration.

John rolled his eyes, but Stiles knew he wasn’t upset.

“Well, we have to head out, Derek.”

Derek nodded and rose from the table, handing Stiles the papers.

“We’ll see you later, son.”

“Bye, guys. Thanks for the help, Derek.”

He waved them out the door, then went upstairs and took a three hour power nap, despite the three cups of coffee in his body.

* * *

 

It was three o’clock, and Stiles had just left the library. His backpack was full of extra (giant, old, dusty) folklore books. He had nowhere to go, so he wandered around aimlessly.

It took Stiles awhile to realize that he was being followed. He had first seen the men in the cafe that morning when he had grabbed a pastry and another coffee, then at the garage when he dropped off his car, and then at the library. Of course, he has chalked it up to coincidence until he bent down to tie his shoe and realized they were loitering behind him. He stood up and started walking, and they started following.

His heart rate picked up and he started walking faster.

“Stiles!”

He turned to see Kelly across the street, waving at him.

He jogged over, glancing behind him- but the men were gone.

He shook his head, but smiled when he reached the woman.

“Hey, Kelly.”

“I’m so sorry to bother you, but you’re the only one I recognize here,” she said, laughing self-consciously.

“It’s no problem. What’s up?”

“I seem to have gotten a bit lost. Could you tell me which way the bank is?”

Stiles sighed internally. _How the hell can someone get lost in Beacon Hills? Tourists_.

But since Kelly was nice, instead of saying that to her face, he smiled and said, “Sure. Go straight ahead, then take two rights and a left, and it will be on the left side of the street.”

“Thank you so much! How’s your head doing?”

“Ah, right. Much better, it was just a bruise. Honesty, it was probably my fault, I hadn’t slept in a few days, I was probably in the way.”

Kelly shook her head. “It was definitely my bad. I wasn’t paying attention. But I really do need to get to the bank. Thanks for the help!”

Before Stiles could answer, she was gone.

Fifteen minutes later, he figured out that he was still being followed. He had tripped and skinned his knee, and while he sat on the ground, he caught another glimpse of the two men. They were both hulking guys, they looked like they could snap Stiles like a toothpick.

He picked himself up and spent half an hour trying to lose them. But everytime he thought they were gone, they appeared again. By the time he changed his course, he was staving off a panic attack.

The goons were only five feet behind him when he reached the Sheriff’s station. He walked inside as casually as he could, not wanting to freak out his dad.

“Hey, Dad,” he said when he reached his desk.

“Stiles, what are you doing here?” The Sheriff asked, looking up at his son in confusion.

“Thought I’d drop in, see how everything was going.”

John sighed, leaning back in his chair.

“I can’t give you a ride home yet. I told you, on my dinner break.”

“I wasn’t going to ask that!”

“Then why are you here?” John squinted at Stiles. “Are you alright?”

“Yeah, of course! What, can’t I come visit my dad at work?”

“You can, but you never do,” John said slyly.

Stiles scoffed, but before he could reassure his dad any further, Derek walked in from one of the offices, looking concerned.

“Stiles?”

“Heyyyy, Derek.”

Stiles mentally cursed. Lying to Derek was even harder.

“What’s wrong?”

Stiles shook his head. “Nothing! Why do you guys assume that something’s wrong just because I came to visit my dad?”

Derek’s nose twitched. “I’m not asking because you’re here, I’m asking because I can tell that you’re on the verge of a panic attack. And I can smell that you’re bleeding. What’s happening?”

Stiles groaned to himself. “Stupid chemosignals,” he muttered.

Derek just raised an eyebrow at him, then pushed him into a chair.

“Deep breaths.”

“What's going on, Stiles?” His father asked firmly.

Stiles sighed. “I was sort of being followed.”

Both John and Derek’s brows furrowed. “By who?”

“I don’t know. Two big guys, dark hair, looked like they could step on me.”

John frowned. “How long?”

“All day. I saw them at the coffee shop, then the library. But I didn’t notice until about three.”

“It’s four-thirty, Stiles!” Derek growled in annoyance. “What, did you not think to call someone?”

“I got distracted!”

“You were distracted from being followed?”

“No! Well, yes? The lady who hit me in the grocery store stopped me to ask for directions, and they disappeared! I didn’t notice they came back until half an hour ago. I couldn’t shake them, so I came here.”

“Were they still following you?” Derek asked.

Stiles nodded. “They were only like, five feet away when I got here.”

“Jesus _Christ_ ,” Derek exclaimed, and then he stalked away.

Stiles blinked, and then he saw his father shaking his head.

“Stiles, you need to _call_ me if something like that happens! You should be old enough to realize that by now.”

“I am!” Stiles protested. “But I left my phone at home.”

The Sheriff put his head in his hands, muttering.

“Wait, Derek said you were bleeding. What happened?”

“Oh, right. I just tripped on the sidewalk.”

“My son is a disaster,” John said, looking up at the ceiling in despair.

Derek walked back in. “They’re gone. I couldn’t get a scent, because _I don’t know what they smell like_. Next time, Stiles, tell us that they’re here before they leave!”

Derek glared at him, and Stiles shrank back sheepishly. “Sorry?”

John groaned, burying his face in his hands again. “So, now you can’t leave, and if you stay here you’re going to give me an aneurism. And the doctor wonders why my blood pressure is so high, holy shit.”

Stiles shifted in the hard chair uncomfortably. The danger of a panic attack had faded away, and now he just felt awkward.

“I’ll take him back to my place,” Derek said gruffly.

“And I can pick him up when I head home,” John added thoughtfully.

Stiles gaped at them. “I am _twenty-three!_ I think I can stay home alone.”

Derek glared at him. “Not when you’re being followed. And you’re not smart enough to call for help. If you go home alone, you’ll end up getting kidnapped or something, and that would be really annoying. Come on.”

Stiles blinked a few times, but he stopped protesting as Derek hauled him to his feet.

“I’m going out first, and then you can follow once I’m sure no one’s around.”

He gathered up a bunch of papers and folders before practically dragging Stiles to the doors. Once the coast was clear, Stiles got into the passenger seat of Derek’s Camaro.

It wasn’t until they were at Derek’s loft that Stiles looked at Derek and said, “Thanks.”

Derek looked at him before glancing away. “Don’t worry about it. Just, next time, call me or something, okay?”

Stiles tilted his head. “You were worried.”

Derek scoffed. “No, I wasn’t. Like I said, it would be annoying if you got kidnapped. Then we’d have to come find you, and it would take time away from the investigation.”

Stiles just grinned at him, and Derek scowled.

“You know what, maybe I will let you get kidnapped. Then you won’t be around to bug me all the time.”

Stiles snorted, and he swore he saw Derek’s lips twitch.

* * *

 

“Hey, John’s staying overnight again,” Derek told Stiles later that night. “Looks like you’re staying here.”

Stiles glanced up from the book he was reading. “Oh, sorry. You can drive me home, I’m sure it’s fine now.”

Derek was already shaking his head. “Shut up. I don’t mind. But you’re not staying up all night again, and I need sleep.”

Stiles looked at the clock. “It’s ten-thirty already?”

Derek nodded. “And that means you’re going to sleep.”

“Jesus, who are you, my babysitter?”

Derek smirked. “Pretty much. Now go brush your teeth. Also, take a shower. You reek.”

Stiles stuck his tongue out at Derek, like any mature adult would. But he hadn’t showered in three whole days, so he did it anyway. He didn’t want to change back into his dirty clothes, so he walked out of the bathroom with just the towel around his waist. He awkwardly crossed his left arm in front of him, not wanting any questions about his stupid soulmark.

Stiles must’ve somehow managed to startle Derek, because he spluttered when he saw him.

“Sorry, dude. Could I borrow something to wear? I really don’t want to wear my clothes to bed.”

“Uh, yeah. Sure, yeah.”

Derek sort of shook himself, then disappeared into his room. He was back a few moments later with sweatpants and a sweatshirt.

“Sorry, it’s all I have that might fit you,” he said, rubbing his hand behind his neck.

Stiles shrugged. “Thanks.”

He went back into the bathroom and changed. The sweatshirt was pretty big on him- the sleeves dangled well past his hands, and overall it hung loosely on his lean frame. He never really thought about how much bulkier Derek was than him.

The sweatshirt smelled like Derek, which made sense. What didn’t make sense was why Stiles even cared. He took his contacts out and put his glasses on, thankful that he had thought to put them in his bag this morning.

He headed back out and found Derek drinking a glass of water in the kitchen. He turned and saw Stiles, but before he could say anything, he started choking on the water.

“Jesus, are you okay?” Stiles asked, rushing over.

He tried to pat Derek on the back, but Derek moved away.

“I’m good,” he coughed, eyes watering. “Sorry.”

Stiles looked at him strangely. “What happened?”

“Wrong pipe,” Derek answered, bright red from choking.

“Ookay then. You sure you’re okay?”

Derek nodded stiffly. He was now standing on the other side of the room, as rigid as a statue, his right hand clutching his left arm like someone was about to steal it. And he was studiously avoiding looking at Stiles.

Stiles shrugged off the werewolf’s embarrassment and poured himself a glass of water.

“Hey, could you grab me a blanket? I think I’m going to go to sleep.”

Derek finally shook himself out of whatever was bothering him and nodded.

A few moments later, he was throwing a pillow and a blanket at Stiles. Stiles missed, and the pillow hit him in the face. He rolled his eyes and stuck out his tongue.

“Thanks, Sourwolf.”

Derek rolled his eyes at the nickname, but Stiles saw his lips quirking up.

“Night, Stiles. And no research!”

“Fine,” Stiles huffed. “Night, Derek.”

* * *

 

Stiles woke up to something hitting him in the face.

“Ah! Wha-?”

He blinked and pushed himself up, then focused on Derek’s amused face and the bagel now sitting in his lap.

“Why do you throw things at me?” Stiles mock-whined.

“Because you can’t catch and you always drop it,” Derek said, smirking.

“I was sleeping!”

“Well, you can’t catch when you’re awake, either. Now eat, I’m going to drop you off at home before I go to work.”

Stiles took a bite of the bagel, then tilted his head at Derek.

“I’m allowed to go home now?”

“Your dad asked me to do a perimeter search, so I did. All clear. Just lock the doors.”

Stiles nodded. “Got it. Thanks.”

Derek shrugged.

Fifteen minutes later, Derek was dropping him in front of his house. He made Stiles stay in the car while he did one last check, but when the coast was clear he shepherded Stiles inside.

“Thanks again, Derek,” Stiles said.

“No problem. Don’t forget, we have a mandatory pack meeting tonight. Seven o’clock at the loft. Do you need a ride?”

Stiles shook his head. “The Jeep will be out of the shop by four.”

Derek nodded shortly. “Call me if there’s trouble,” he said, and then he was gone.

By two-thirty, Stiles has read yet another folklore book with no luck. He sighed in frustration.

It was only then that he realized he didn’t actually have a ride to go get Roscoe from the shop. He groaned, but texted his dad.

_I have to walk into town to get Roscoe. Are you going to be pissed that I left the house?_

Dad: _just be careful, text me when you get there and back home. Don’t get kidnapped or something._

Stiles rolled his eyes, but he understood his dad’s worry.

It took him almost half an hour to reach town. It probably could have been shorter, but he was paranoid after yesterday. He let his dad know when he got to the shop and drove home.

He texted his dad as soon as he stepped back inside, locking the door behind him. Then he walked into the kitchen and jumped about a foot in the air.

“What the _hell!”_ He cried.

Kelly was poking around in his fridge. She looked over at him and smiled.

“Stiles, hi! Glad you’re home.”

“What are you doing here?” He asked incredulously. “And how did you even get in? I locked the door.”

She shrugged like it wasn’t a big deal that she had broken into Stiles’ house.

“I’m looking for bait.”

Stiles blinked at her. “Bait? What, like, for fishing? We don’t have any. I think you need to go.”

“Not for fishing. More like...setting a trap.”

“What?” Stiles was getting really confused. What the actual hell? “How did you know where I live?”

Kelly looked to the left, and two large men stood up from the table. The two men who had been following him yesterday.

Stiles took a step back, heart beating faster.

_Just, next time, call me or something, okay?_

And

_Call me if there’s trouble._

Derek’s voice echoed in Stiles’ head, and Stiles tried to subtly open his phone.

Kelly shook her head, clicking her tongue. “No, I don’t think so.”

His phone was ripped from his hand by a third man, who then proceeded to hit him over the head with a rolling pin.

Stiles fell to the floor with a cry. He could feel his head bleeding, and he was seeing stars. He groaned and tried to stand up, but as soon as he did, a strong arm wrapped around his torso, pinning his arms.

Stiles struggled, but a wet cloth was placed over his mouth and nose. Stiles jerked his head to the side, but he had already breathed in the chloroform. His eyes rolled back into his head and that was the last thing he remembered.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, this is where the M rating comes in for violence and heavily implied smut. 
> 
> In all honesty, it could probably be a T but I was being safe. Enjoy!

Stiles woke up slowly. His neck hurt and he realized he was sitting up, head hanging at an uncomfortable angle. He tried to move, but his arms were stuck. And his legs.

He was suddenly fully awake, jerking his limbs, trying to get free. He was tied tightly to a chair, and he looked around, panicked.

The first thing he saw was a woman with hair made of fire standing across the room, but the second she saw he was awake, she was right in front of him.

Stiles blinked his vision clear, and realized that no, her hair wasn’t made of fire. It was just red. And she hadn’t teleported, she was just fast. And- oh.

“ _God_ , I’m stupid,” Stiles muttered, groaning at the pain in his head.

Kelly smiled at him. “I’m glad you’re awake, Stiles!” She said cheerily.

Stiles glared at her. “You’re the one we’ve been looking for.”

“I’m flattered, but you’re a little young for me. Your friend, the deputy? Derek, right? He’s a little more my type.”

Stiles scowled. “What are you?”

She looked at him curiously. “You don’t seem all that worried that we kidnapped you.”

“I run with the McCall-Hale Pack, lady. This ain’t my first rodeo.”

That information seemed to surprise her, which was confusing. She should know that if she had chosen him to kidnap.

“So, what are you anyway? Wolf? Hunter? Some random monster?”

She turned to one of the goons, who shrugged.

“How is the sheriff’s son in a gang?” She asked, wrinkling her nose.

“A gang? What-” Suddenly, it hit Stiles. “You kidnapped me because of my dad. Man, that’s so boring.”

“Bingo!” Kelly announced. “And we left him a nice little message at home to find. He should be here soon.”

“Why? What are you going to do with him?” Stiles felt the panic rising again.

“He killed my brother. He needs to see how it feels to lose someone you love.”

Stiles thought hard. “Your brother...oh my god. You’re Bella Farrow, aren’t you?”

Kelly- _Bella_ \- nodded. “Your father shot my brother right in the heart. He bled out in my arms.”

Stiles huffed. “Lady, you and your brother were trying to kill _him_! YOur brother was about to shoot one of my dad’s deputies! You were robbing a bank.”

She scowled at him. “No more talking. I have eleven more men in the woods.”

Stiles scoffed. “You don’t scare me.”

In one smooth movement, she had a cold knife pressed against the pressure point in his neck.

Stiles winced, moving his head away as much as he could.

“Okay, fine! Fine, maybe you do.”

She smiled, self-satisfied, and stepped away. Stiles breathed again, forcing himself to calm down.

“What time is it?”

Bella glanced at him, then rolled her eyes. “Six forty-five.”

Stiles relaxed slightly. He just had to make it forty-five minutes at most before they would hopefully find him.

There was a yell from somewhere outside, and Bella grinned.

“Daddy’s home,” she said maliciously.

The door opened and Sheriff Stilinski was roughly pushed inside by a new goon.

“Stiles!” John cried. “Are you okay?”

“Dad! I’m fine, they hit me on the head, but I don’t think I have a concussion. They chloroformed me! She’s a human, which means all that research I did was all for nothing,” he rambled, carefully looking over his dad for any injuries.

“Really? You’re complaining now, after being kidnapped?”

Stiles shrugged. “It’s not like I haven’t been kidnapped before.”

John sighed, shaking his head. “I have never wanted to hear you say anything like that.”

“It’s been a weird seven years, Pops.”

John just sighed again.

Bella stared at him before shaking her head.

“Tie him up,” she told Goon Number Four.

A chair was dragged in front of Stiles, and John was roughly tied to it.

“Do you remember me?” Bella asked, leaning in close to John.

Stiles chewed on his lip as his dad sighed.

“Bella Farrow. I should’ve known.”

Bella slapped the Sheriff suddenly, and Stiles jerked.

“Hey!”

She turned and glared at him.

“Look, Lady, I have a meeting in like, ten minutes. You really don’t want me to miss it, do you?”

She scowled. “No talking, you.”

Stiles rolled his eyes at his dad, who shrugged.

“Now, John. I have a few questions for you, before I get to work. Where’s Alex Pilington?”

Stiles furrowed his brow.

“Who?”

“Stiles, she told you not to talk.”

“Sorry! You know I have trouble with that.”

John rolled his eyes. “Alex Pilington was the witness who gave us the description.”

“So he’s the one who made me do all that research?”

“Son, shut up about the research, okay?”

Becca sneered at them. “Just answer the question, Stilinski.”

“He’s in witness protection,” John said.

“Wrong answer,” Bella told him, before reaching over and backhanding Stiles so hard his whole body jerked.

“Hey!” John yelled. “Leave him be!”

Bella looked at him calculatingly. “Oh, I’m sorry. Does it hurt you, seeing your family getting hurt? Does that feel bad? Well guess what? My brother died in my arms because of you!”

John winced. “Bella, please. He was about to shoot my deputy.”

“I don’t care!” Bella shrieked.

They were interrupted by a phone ringing. Everyone fell silent and looked over to where Stiles’ backpack was sitting on the table.

“Sorry, sorry, that’s my bad,” Stiles said. “That’s my best friend. I told you, I have a meeting, and now I’m late. They’re going to wonder where I am.”

Bella looked at him suspiciously. “Turn it off,” she told Goon Number Two.

“He’s just going to keep calling,” Stiles warned. “And then they’re going to start looking for me.”

Bella narrowed her eyes at him. “Fine. Answer it.”

She had the goon place the phone on Stiles’ lap. Before he could answer, though, she was holding a gun to John’s throat. “No funny business.”

Stiles swallowed and nodded. The goon answered the phone, and put it on speaker.

“Hey, Scotty.”

“ _Stiles, where are you? We’ve got a meeting tonight!”_

“Yeah, I know. I’m not coming.”

“ _You’re...not coming.”_

Stiles glanced at Bella.

“No, sorry.”

“ _Stiles, you can’t just not come to a pack meeting. This is important.”_

“Look, Scott. I’m spending the night with my dad.”

Scott started to answer, but there was a slight commotion on the other end, before-

“ _What do you mean, you’re not coming?”_

“Heyyy, Derek,” Stiles said sheepishly.

“ _Get your ass over here, Stilinski. What part of ‘mandatory’ don’t you understand?”_

“I’m a little tied up at the moment, Derek,” Stiles said drily.

The Sheriff rolled his eyes.

“ _Stiles, you’re part of this pack, that means you come to pack meetings.”_

“Okay, but like, what if I was kidnapped as bait for my dad by the people we’re tracking and now we’re being held captive in a cabin somewhere in the preserve?” Stiles asked.

Bella clicked he safety off of the gun, and Stiles cursed.

“It’s called sarcasm!” He hissed at her. She glared at him.

“ _What? Who are you talking to?”_

Stiles kept his eyes trained on the gun at his dad’s head. “Just my dad, sorry. Look, I’m spending some quality time with him tonight, okay?”

Derek was quiet for a moment. “ _Is everything okay? Your heart’s beating pretty fast, I can hear it over the phone.”_

Stiles winced. “Yeah, no, I’m good. You’re on speaker, that’s probably why. Oh! You need the research.”

“ _Yes, Stiles, we need the research.”_

Stiles bit his lip, thinking.

“Okay, look. My dad and I aren’t home. But go sniff around, it’s there somewhere.”

“ _What? Stiles, just bring the research over-”_

Bella made a _wrap it up_ movement with her hand.

“I can’t, Derek. Just use your nose, you’ll figure it out. I’ve got to go.”

“ _Wait, Stiles-”_

The goon hung up the phone.

“You know, that reminds me. How did the Sheriff let his son join a gang?” Bella asked curiously.

“A gang?” John asked, looking at Stiles.

“You know, the McCall-Hale pack?” Stiles told him, trying not to laugh. This was ridiculous.

“Ah, of course. Well, they’re good kids,” John told Bella, smiling slightly.

“God, you guys are crazy,” Bella said.

“You’re a murdering psychopath!” Stiles exclaimed. “You kidnapped me!”

Bella rolled her eyes. “Right. And I was in the middle of questioning. Now, shall we proceed?”

“Bella, you don’t need to do this,” John tried. “If you stop now, you won’t get hurt.”

Bella scoffed. “Hurt? Please. You’re the ones tied to the chairs.”

“I wasn’t talking about us,” John murmured under his breath.

Bella didn’t hear him, and Stiles exchanged a look with his father.

“Now. Where is Alex Pilington?”

“I told you, I don’t know. He’s in witness protection.”

Bella slapped Stiles again, and he felt a cut open up on his cheek.

“They didn’t tell me!” John insisted.

“I don’t believe you,” Bella said calmly, and then she sliced her knife on Stiles’ arm.

Stiles bit his lip against the pain.

“Lady, I should warn you, I’ve got a weak stomach. You don’t want me puking on you, do you?”

Bella hit him again. He stopped talking.

She continued asking John questions, and when she didn’t like the answer, she would hit Stiles, or cut him with the knife.

“Tell me!” She demanded.

“I don’t know!”

Bella backhanded Stiles so hard the the chair fell on its side. He hit the ground with a grunt. It had been almost twenty minutes since he had stopped talking. He was covered in cuts and bruises and the original wound to his head had started bleeding again, making his hair stick to his head uncomfortably.

A heavy boot came down on his head, and his ears rang.

He groaned, trying to move, but he was still stuck to the chair.

“Enough, Bella,” John said firmly, but his voice was wavering.

Bella just kicked Stiles in the face.

Stiles cried out, the taste iron filling his mouth as his lip started bleeding.

Suddenly, a howl cut through the air somewhere outside.

Stiles laughed, relief flooding through him.

Bella glared down at him. “What’s so funny?”

Before Stiles could answer, someone in the preserve screamed, and then it was cut short.

“That.”

Bella furrowed her brow, then wheeled around to John.

“I told you no backup!” She cried angrily.

“I didn’t call backup,” John said calmly, and another person screamed.

“I warned you not to let me miss my meeting,” Stiles informed her, grinning.

He probably looked deranged, face bruised and bloody, teeth stained with blood.

Someone else screamed, and then there was another howl.

Bella snapped her fingers and Goons One and Two stepped forward and righted his chair.

“What did you do?” She asked slowly, dangerously.

Stiles looked at her calmly. “Do you believe in the supernatural, Bella?”

She raised an eyebrow at him.

“You know, the monster under your bed? Things that go bump in the night?”

Stiles spit out a mouthful of blood.

Bella scoffed. “Of course not.”

John laughed slightly. Stiles shook his head at her, and she jumped as multiple terrified screams echoed through the air.

“You really should.”

She narrowed her eyes at him, then gestured to Goon Number Four, who stepped forward and pressed a knife to Stiles’ throat. Stiles didn’t even blink- he knew that they wouldn’t even get the chance to slit his throat.

“I told you, I run with the McCall-Hale pack. But it’s not a gang.”

Stiles looked at Bella smugly.

“They’re werewolves.”

At that moment, the door to the cabin was kicked off of its hinges. Derek lunged inside with an angry roar, eyes blazing red and wolfed out. Stiles had never seen him so angry, and he smiled, satisfied with the turn of events. .

Derek was followed closely by a wolfed out Scott and Erica, and a bow-wielding Allison.

Bella screamed. Goon Number One literally pissed himself. Goon Number Two actually fainted. Goon Number Three stupidly charged at Derek, who batted him aside effortlessly. Erica took him from there, pinning him to the wall.

Scott took down Goon Number One, while Erica knocked out Goon Number Three.

Goon Number Four pressed the knife harder against Stiles’ throat, stepping behind the chair to use him as a shield. Stiles could feel him shaking.

“S-stay. Stay back,” he said, voice high with fear.

Derek snarled at him, taking a step forward.

“Don’t come any closer!” Goon Number Four yelled. “I’ll slit his throat, I will! I’ll do it!”

Stiles rolled his eyes. The guy’s hand was shaking so bad it’d be a wonder if he could cut anything. Apparently, the guy realized this and he dropped the knife, instead wrapping his arm around Stiles’ neck.

Stiles was a bit more concerned about that, seeing as he couldn’t breathe. He tried to thrash away, but he was still tied to the chair.

“Hands off,” Derek growled softly. It was quiet, but it sent chills down Stiles’ spine.

“What _are_ you?” Goon Number Four asked shakily.

Derek leveled him with a glare, and as Stiles watched, his eyes flashed red.

“I’m an alpha, so. Let. Him. Go.”

The arm around his neck tightened. Stiles was choking for air now, and he saw Derek’s lip curl.

“Or what?” The goon asked stupidly.

“Or I’ll rip your throat out,” Derek threatened, baring his fangs. “With my teeth.”

The grip on Stiles’ neck loosened slightly, but didn’t go away all together. Stiles wanted to laugh, except he was still being choked. That line never failed to scare the shit out of people.

Derek crossed the room in one bound and wrenched the guy away. Stiles gasped for breath as soon as the arm released him, and he turned his head to see Derek holding the goon well above the ground with just one hand on his throat.

He snarled as the goon scrabbled against him, eyes wide and wheezing for breath. Derek slammed him down on the ground only when his eyes fell shut. He didn’t get back up.

The three werewolves then turned to Bella, who was being held at arrow-point by Allison.

She sank down to the ground, whimpering. Erica, Scott, and Derek all de-wolfed, glaring at her.

“Can we kill her?” Erica asked John.

Stiles looked at his dad, who was seriously considering it.

“No,” he said after a moment, sounding disappointed. “We have to take her to lock-up. But if she tries anything else, be my guest.”

Derek growled in annoyance, and Bella squeaked in fear.

Erica mock-lunged at her, and Bella passed out.

“You guys have the best timing,” Stiles said, grinning.

Derek rolled his eyes, and untied John. Scott untied Stiles.

“What even happened?” Scott asked.

“I got home after getting Roscoe, and they were waiting for me in the kitchen. One guy hit me in the head, then they chloroformed me. But I should’ve realized.”

“Realized what?” Allison called from where she and Erica were tying up Bella.

“She’s the lady who bumped into me in the store. I should’ve known, she knew who I was, and she showed up when I was being followed.”

“You didn’t question how she knew you?” Derek asked incredulously.

“Well, no! She just said ‘you’re the sheriff’s son, right?’ And I said yes! I had just smacked my head on the shelves, and I was trying to be polite!” He said defensively.

“Oh my god,” Derek muttered. “I told you to call me if there was trouble, idiot.”

“I tried, they took my phone.”

“Leave him alone, Derek, he hasn’t even stopped bleeding yet,” Erica pointed out.

“Yeah, I’m still bleeding!” Stiles added needlessly.

Derek rolled his eyes again- he did that a lot around Stiles- then walked over and leaned down so they were eye level.

Stiles was almost thankful for the blood on his face- it covered his blush. Derek’s face was hardly five inches from his own, and his eyes were scanning over all the bruises and cuts on his face. He gently ran his fingers over a few of them, and Stiles suppressed a shudder at the surprising warmth. If Stiles didn’t know any better, he’d say that Derek looked almost... worried. But then he blinked and Derek was standing back up.

“You’ll live,” he decided. “The one on your head’s the worst, but it should stop bleeding soon.”

Stiles nodded, clearing his throat.

“You all know that that guy’s dead, right?” Scott interrupted.

He pointed to Goon Number Four, who still hadn’t moved.

Everyone stared at the dead guy for a second, then looked at Derek.

Derek shrugged. “He hit his head pretty hard when he fell.”

“And you crushed his windpipe, but sure, he hit his head,” Erica said, rolling her eyes. “I call dibs on not hiding the body.”

Derek rolled his eyes back at her. “I’ll take care of it.”

“How about no one takes care of it, and we file an accident report?” John suggested.

“I’d be all for that,” Derek said. “But my fingerprints are all over his neck, and my blood’s on his shirt. The coroner would know I did it.”

John nodded his assent. “You’re right. Need help digging?”

Derek smiled slightly. “Yeah, thanks.”

“Wait, how is your blood on his shirt?” Stiles asked.

Derek grunted, and Stiles realized he hadn’t meant to actually tell them he was bleeding.

Derek turned and lifted his shirt, and Stiles saw a bloody wound.

“Jesus, Derek! You were stabbed?”

Derek shrugged. “Two of the guys out there ganged up on me. I’m already mostly healed.”

Stiles rolled his eyes, scratching at his arm, but he let it go.  
  
“What happened to the others?” He asked, looking to the unconscious men in the corner.

“There were four others, but we took them down easily. Lydia, Kira, Isaac, Boyd, Liam, and Jackson are guarding them,” Scott answered.

“Wait, four? No, Bella said there were at least ten others out there.”

Everyone in the room stiffened, the three wolves sniffing the air.

Derek heaved a pained sigh, rolling his eyes to the ceiling and gritting his teeth.

“Son of a bitch,” he growled.

“Everyone down!” Erica yelled.

Stiles found himself being tackled and flattened to the ground by Derek as bullets suddenly flew through the windows from all angles.

“Guys!” Allison yelled, pushing herself out of range. “We need backup!”

After a moment, there was a scream and the rain of bullets slowed slightly. A woman entered through the door, but she faltered when she saw her boss and colleagues unconscious (and dead) on the floor.

“What-”

Before she could finish, she fell to the floor, out cold.

Lydia Martin stood behind her, grinning. “You called?”

Allison huffed a laugh. “I love you.”

There was another scream, and then a man was thrown through the window into the cabin. Jackson appeared at the window, waving.

“How many more are there?” Liam called, popping up at another window.

“Four,” Stiles grunted. “Derek, you can get off now.”

“Crap, sorry,” Derek muttered, pushing himself off of Stiles. He didn’t get far before he fell back down, sitting back against the wall.

Stiles looked down at his shirt- it was sticky and wet with blood. But not his.

He looked at Derek, eyes widening.

“Derek’s been shot!” He exclaimed.

Derek grimaced, raising one hand away from the hole in his stomach.

“I’ll heal, relax.”

“Christ, how many times were you hit?” Stiles asked, trying to look at the injuries.

Derek just batted him away, rolling his eyes. “I’m fine.”

“Where are the others?” Scott asked, like a responsible alpha.  And a worried boyfriend.

“Off finding the others. They’ll be fine,” Lydia assured them.

“So, what do we do with these idiots?” Erica asked, kicking at one of the unconscious men.

“Lock up?” Liam suggested.

“Watch it!” Erica yelled suddenly, lunging forwards.

Goon Number One had woken up and was running. He knocked into Stiles and shoved Lydia to the ground, making a break for one of the discarded guns. But then Stiles blinked and Goon Number One was on the ground, three arrows sprouting from his back.

“Asshole,” Allison muttered, lowering her bow. “You okay, babe?”

“I’m good,” Lydia responded, picking herself up.

“Great, now we have two dead bodies to bury,” Derek grumbled.

“Don’t be such a sourwolf,” Stiles told him, biting back a grin as Derek glared at him.

“I just took six bullets for you, so shut the hell up.”

Stiles’ eyes went wide. “ _Six?_ I didn’t realize you took them for _me!_ Jesus, Derek!”

Derek waved off his concerns again. “Why the fuck did you think I tackled you? Look, I can stand up already.”

He staggered up, only wincing slightly.

Stiles rolled his eyes.

“Got them!” Kira announced cheerfully, entering the cabin and dragging one man behind her. Isaac followed with another, and Boyd came in last, a woman and a man over his shoulders.

Stiles looked around the cabin at his pack, and the unconscious (and dead) bodies scattered around.

Only one thing came to mind.

“They’re all human! I can’t believe all my research was for nothing,” he complained.

Derek rolled his eyes and cuffed him on the head. Stiles yelped indignantly, ducking much too late.

“Not for nothing,” Scott said, grinning. “You learned not to take advice from homeless guys who are hopped up on drugs.”

Stiles smacked Scott’s arm, and Scott laughed.

* * *

 

Stiles was changing his shirt that night when he saw it. His soulmark- it was fully formed.

He yelled in surprise, staring at it.

It was a paw print. A _wolf’s_ paw print, to be specific. And it was black as ink.

But there still weren’t any initials.

Suddenly his door burst opened and he yelped, hiding his arm behind his back.

“Stiles, what’s wrong?” John asked, looking worried.

“What? Nothing. What? Sorry. Didn’t mean to scare you, I...uh, dropped something, almost landed on my foot. Scared me. I’m fine!”

John visibly relaxed, but he squinted at Stiles.

“Something happen with your soulmark?”

“What? Soulmark, I don’t have a soulmark,” Stiles babbled, eyes wide.

John raised an eyebrow.

“No, nothing, really. Maybe. _Fine_ , yes.”

Stiles sighed in defeat and brought his arm forward.

“How’d you know?”

“Because you suck at hiding things,” John said casually, inspecting it. “What happened?”

“It’s finished, I think. It was just a blob on my arm until tonight. I don’t know why.”

John smiled at him. “It just means that you took your time falling in love. And now you’re starting to realize who it is.”

“How did you know I don’t know who it is?”

“First of all, no initials. And secondly, because everyone else knows and we know that you don’t know because you are painfully obvious, kid.”

Stiles blinked. “Is everyone talking about my love life behind my back?”

John snorted, patting Stiles on the back. “Except one person. You’ll figure it out, son. Pretty soon, I hope. It’s getting a bit pathetic with the two of you.”

“Who?” Stiles asked despairingly.

John just shook his head, grinning, and left.

Stiles sat on his bed, staring at the mark on his arm. Did the print mean it was someone in the pack? Or was it just a coincidence?

Stiles groaned in frustration, flopping back and throwing an arm over his eyes.

* * *

 

“Up, get up.”

Stiles groaned and rolled over, pulling the covers over his head.

“Stiles, it’s dinner time.”

Stiles grumbled, but didn’t move.

His pillow was suddenly ripped out from under his head, and then he was began hit with it. He sat up, trying to fend it off. His body screamed in protest, unbelievably sore from being beaten up by Bella Farrow.

“Ow! Shit! Enough, I’m up!” Stiles cried, covering his head.

He glared at Scott, who just grinned at him smugly.

“It’s too early for this, man, what the hell?”

“It’s six in the evening. You’ve been sleeping all day.”

Stiles squinted at the clock and winced. Scott was right.

“Oops.”

Scott was still grinning at him, and Stiles raised an eyebrow at him.

Scott nodded towards his exposed arm. “Nice Soulmark. You figured out who?”

Stiles sighed. “No. Can’t you just tell me?”

“You need to do it yourself, dude. Sorry. Anyway, come on. Dinner’s ready, Mom’s downstairs, and I’m hungry.”

“Hand me my glasses then.”

Scott rolled his eyes, but he passed Stiles his glasses, and then they went downstairs.

“Morning, Champ,” John called brightly from the kitchen.

Stiles just made a garbled noise and dropped himself into a chair.

“Hey, Melissa,” he mumbled, still trying to rub sleep out of his eyes. “Your son attacked me with a pillow.”

“To be fair, he tried to wake you up two hours ago, and you threw a pillow at him.”

“I did?” Stiles asked.

Melissa nodded, laughing slightly.

“Sorry,” Stiles muttered to his best friend.

Scott shrugged. “I can catch, unlike you.”

“You’re a werewolf!” Stiles protested indignantly.

“That doesn’t mean anything, you’re just a klutz.”

“I feel so attacked out here. I’m going to help my dad,” Stiles stood up and turned, about to walk into the kitchen.

Instead, he walked directly into something solid and warm, knocking his glasses crooked. Strong arms reached out to steady him.

Once he got his balance, he blinked, surprised.

Derek reached out and straightened his glasses for him.

“About time you woke up,” he said after a moment.

Stiles realized he was staring, and he mentally shook himself. “Uh. Yeah. Sorry- about bumping into you. Didn’t realize you were here.”

The corner of Derek’s lip quirked up. “I noticed. Dinner’s ready, though, so no need to go help your dad.”

“Werewolf hearing. Right.”

Derek rolled his eyes and stepped around Stiles to sit at the table. Stiles shook himself out of his weird stupor and sat back down next to Derek, across from Scott.

“Nice hair, by the way,” Scott told him, smirking.

Stiles frowned, then reached up. His hair was sticking out in all directions, like he had been electrocuted.

He groaned, glaring at Scott.

“Thanks,” he muttered, attempting to smooth it down.

Scott stuck out his tongue at him, and suddenly Derek was ruffling Stiles’ hair back up.

“Hey!” Stiles squawked, slapping his hand away.

Derek grinned at him.

His dad came in a moment later carrying a tray of burgers.

“Here we go,” he said brightly, depositing it on the table.

Stiles’ stomach growled loudly, and he happily reached for a burger.

He glared at the Sheriff when he reached for one of his own.

“Dad,” he complained.

“Stiles, we just finished an insane case that ended with you being kidnapped. Shut up and let me eat my damn burger in peace. I’ll let you make me eat healthy for the rest of the week, just let me have this,” John pleaded tiredly.

“Fine,” Stiles grumbled. “But next time you’re eating tofu.”

“Question,” Derek inserted. “Why does he have to eat all healthy but you can eat all the curly fries you want?”

Stiles glared at him. “Because I’m twenty-three and I don’t have high blood pressure.”

“My blood pressure has nothing to do with the food I eat and everything to do with you not calling for help when you’re being followed,” John argued.

Derek snorted, and John grinned triumphantly.

Stiles just scowled and took another bite of the burger.

“That doesn’t explain your high cholesterol, John,” Melissa added casually.

Now John was scowling, and Melissa smiled and high-fived Stiles.

“Your mom is the coolest,” he told Scott.

“I know,” Scott answered, grinning at his mother.

An hour and a half later, they were still sitting at the table, laughing about the trouble Stiles and Scott got into when they were younger.

“And then,” Stiles said, laughing so hard he had to catch his breath. “And then Scott tried to push me out of the tree because I was winning, but he missed and he fell instead.”

“The branch broke!” Scott insisted, but he was laughing too.

“Holy shit, I was so scared,” Stiles said breathlessly. “I thought you were dead, because you were just lying there! So I screamed, right, and Melissa comes running out of the house with her baseball bat, thinking we were being kidnapped.”

“You were screaming bloody murder, Stiles, it was a valid assumption,” Melissa laughed.

“Okay, yeah-”

“You tried to run away,” Scott remembered, looking at Stiles accusingly.

“I thought I had killed you, and your mother was running at me with a baseball bat!”

“But you were still in the tree,” Scott said gleefully.

“I was still in the tree!”

Scott laughed uproariously, and Stiles shook his head.

He smiled, fidgeting with his glasses. He still felt self-conscious wearing them around people who weren’t Melissa, Scott, and his dad, and especially around Derek for some reason, which was weird, because Derek was the only other person who knew he had glasses, and he was totally nice about it, too. It was stupid, he knew, but he was allowed to be a little insecure, wasn’t he?

“Stop that,” Derek said suddenly.

Stiles looked over at him, pulling his glasses off. “What?”

Derek shook his head and took the glasses from Stiles.

“You’ve been fidgeting with them all night, just like you always do when you wear them. Leave them on. I told you the other night, they suit you.”

He slid the glasses back onto Stiles’ nose, and Stiles blinked at him, before ducking his head in embarrassment.

“Thanks.”

“So, what happened after you tried to run away?” Derek asked, steering the conversation back to somewhere Stiles was comfortable with.

He grinned. “I fell out of the tree, obviously. Scott didn’t even have a scratch on him,” he informed Derek, laughing again. “He had just knocked the wind out of him. Meanwhile, I broke my arm and my nose, _and_ I got a concussion!”

The whole table laughed, and Stiles looked at Derek carefully. His head was thrown back, his whole body shaking with laughter. When he finally stopped, he wiped away a tear and looked at Stiles with a rare, wide smile.

“Only you, Stiles, could try to run away while _in a tree.”_

Stiles ducked his head and took a sip of his water, feeling his face burn, but it wasn’t from embarrassment this time. It was from the way Derek was smiling at him- happy and open and relaxed.

_God, he loved this man._

Stiles choked as it hit him, spraying his water everywhere. And while he flailed, he knocked into his cup and spilled it all over himself and the table.

Stiles jumped up, cursing.

“Jesus, are you alright?” Derek asked, thumping him on the back.

Stiles twisted away, eyes watering. He smacked the table in front of Scott, and Scott’s eyes went wide, understanding dawning on his face.

“Sorry,” Stiles choked out. “I’m going to go change.”

“Is he alright?” Stiles heard Melissa asking Scott.

“He’s just figuring something out,” Scott answered carefully.

Stiles shut the door to his room, pacing. He yanked up his sleeve and stared at his soulmark.

Directly in the middle of the wolf’s paw, two thin, white letters were forming.

_D.H._

Stiles cursed and ran a hand through his hair.

How the fuck had he fallen in love with Derek?

He stubbed his toe and cursed again, hopping on one foot.

A knock at his door made him turn around way too fast, tripping over the air, hitting his head on his desk, and falling onto the ground. He laid there, groaning. The door opened and Stiles rolled over onto his back, finding himself staring up at a slightly amused Scott.

“So, you figured it out and now you’re trying to kill yourself?”

Stiles forced himself up and glared at his friend. “No, asshole. I can’t believe you didn’t tell me it was-”

Scott slapped a hand over Stiles mouth and Stiles tried to push it away, but Scott held firm.

Stupid werewolf strength.

Scott held his other hand up to his ear, then pointed down.

Right. Derek was probably listening.

Stupid werewolf hearing.

Stupid werewolves.

“Everyone downstairs is worried, and dessert’s ready. Can you not freak out long enough for that?”

Stiles sighed, then nodded. Scott pulled his hand away and Stiles composed himself. He changed as quick as he could, then followed Scott out.

John and Melissa looked at him knowingly when he got downstairs, which Stiles did not care for. Derek was just looking at him with concern, which Stiles cared for even less.

“Sorry. Clumsy me,” he said cheerfully, sitting back down.

“Your head is bleeding again,” Derek pointed out. He reached out and held Stiles’ cheek lightly in one hand, and with the other took his napkin and pressed it gently to the wound.

Stiles tried not to spontaneously combust on the spot. He knew Scott was looking at him with pity or amusement- probably both.

“What the hell happened? What were you figuring out?” Derek asked.

“Nothing! No, I just remembered that I... had a case! For the FBI. That I’m supposed to be working on,” Stiles babbled, taking the napkin from Derek.

Derek raised an eyebrow, sitting back again. “It’s summer. Your internship is over.”

“Yeah, I know, but they gave us, like, an assignment? That we’re supposed to submit. I totally forgot about it with all the murders and stuff.”

“Speaking of,” Scott inserted, generously pulling the attention away from Stiles. “Why did she kill those people?”

John sighed, rubbing a hand over his face. “She told me she wanted to get my attention.”

Stiles looked at his father. “When did she say that?”

“I interrogated her today.”

“I’m surprised she talked.”

“Well, Derek stood behind me and glared at her. She was practically crying, begging him not to kill her, so that made it pretty easy. He didn’t even have to bring out his fangs.”

Stiles snorted. “She saw him kill a guy twice his size with one hand. She should have been scared.”

John nodded. “Well, she gave us all the information we needed. She’s probably going to get at least two life sentences.”

“Awesome. Did you tell the families of the victims?”

John sighed wearily. “I’m going to do that tomorrow. I couldn’t tell them that their relative was killed because some psycho wanted to get to me. How do you tell a mother that her ten year old son was killed because of you?” He closed his eyes, rubbing a hand over his face.

Stiles reached out, putting a hand on his father’s shoulder.

“John,” Derek said, shifting uncomfortably. “I told them today.”

John startled and looked over at Derek. Stiles stared at him too.

“You what?”

“I told all of the families today.” Derek hesitated. “But I...”

John exhaled slowly. “Derek, you didn’t.”

Derek shrugged. “You have enough to deal with. You didn’t deserve to have them hate you over something that wasn’t your fault.”

“Christ, Derek, and you did? That was even less your fault than mine.”

“No, it wasn’t. You shot Farrow because he was trying to kill _me_.”

“Because he was aiming for me, and you pulled the attention to yourself,” John reminded him tiredly. “It should have been me.”

“I can heal after being shot, you can’t,” Derek argued. “I took six bullets yesterday, and I’m not even sore now!”

John scrubbed a hand over his face. 

Stiles looked back and forth between them. He hadn’t known that Derek was the deputy that Alan Farrow had tried to kill. And he hadn’t known it was because Farrow was aiming for his dad. He was slow on the uptake, but he eventually realized what Derek had done.

“What did you do?” Scott asked Derek.

“He told the families it was his fault- that Bella was after him,” Stiles said slowly, looking at Derek.

Derek nodded, refusing to back down. “And I stand by that decision.”

John sighed, looking wearily at Derek before standing up. Derek eyed him warily as he walked over to Derek and pulled at his arm.

“Come on, stand up.”

Derek looked at Stiles, then back to John, and then he stood.

The Sheriff pulled a stiff-limbed Derek into a hug.

Stiles couldn’t hold back his smile as Derek slowly unfroze and hugged John back.

After a few moments, John patted Derek’s back and pulled away.

“Thank you, son,” he said to Derek.

Stiles saw Derek’s throat working as he struggled to compose himself.

“You’re welcome, Sir,” he said finally.

As he sat back down next to Stiles, Stiles could feel him shaking almost imperceptibly.

And that’s when he knew he couldn’t tell Derek about the soulmark.

Because Derek obviously didn’t have one, at least not for _Stiles_.

It wasn’t totally unheard of- one person geating a soulmark, falling in love with their soulmate, but not being that person’s soulmate themselves. The universe could be cruel.

But Stiles had to think of Derek- he worked with Stiles’ father, and it was kind of obvious that he had found a sort of father-figure in him, something he hadn’t had in God knows how long. He couldn’t take that away from Derek. He cared him too much to be that selfish.

“Stiles,” Scott said suddenly, kicking Stiles under the table.

“Ow! Hey!”

“Don’t.”

Scott was staring at him warningly, and Stiles knew he could tell what Stiles had been thinking.

“Scott-”

Scott shook his head. “Don’t do that to yourself.”

The other three at the table were looking at them in confusion.

“Scotty, please. Just drop it.”

Scott gave him a pitying look that also said you’re an idiot, and Stiles wanted to melt into the ground.

It was so much worse, because Stiles could feel Derek’s worried stare for the rest of the night.

* * *

 

>  

“Stiles, you gotta calm down, man,” Scott said as they drove over to the loft. “Your heart’s beating a mile a minute and you’re giving off so much anxiety it’s giving me a headache.”

Stiles muttered something about _stupid werewolves_ under his breath, but he pulled over.

“I can’t. I can’t, Scott! Shit, I’m being so stupid.”

Scott gave an indulgent sigh. “Stiles, breathe, okay? Think about it. You’re not being stupid. Well,” he amended. “You are. But not for the reason you think. You’re in love with the guy, but you _won’t tell him._ And that’s why you’re so freaked out.”

Stiles glared at the steering wheel. “No, I’m freaking out because I’m in love with _Derek freaking Hale._ And I can’t tell him because it will ruin everything and I can’t do that to him and besides it’s not like he feels the same and-”

“Whoa whoa whoa, Stiles, slow down. Why would you think he doesn’t love you back?”

Stiles gave his best friend a disbelieving look. “Because he’s built like a fucking god and he’s gorgeous but he’s also nice… after years and years of getting to know him and breaking through his shell, and he’s a _fucking alpha werewolf_ , and I’m just a scrawny human who trips over my own feet and almost knocks myself out at least once a day and I annoy the fuck out of him.”

Scott raised an unimpressed eyebrow. “First of all, I’m also an alpha werewolf, and that doesn’t seem to bother you.”

Stiles glared at him, unamused. “Because I’m not in love with you, Scotty. Don’t get me wrong, you’re like my brother, but like. I don’t want-”

“Yeah, I get it, please don’t talk about sex.”

Stiles nodded, and thunked his head down on the steering wheel.

“And secondly,” Scott continued. “You totally do not annoy the fuck out of him anymore .”

Stiles looked sideways at Scott.

“Okay, fine, occasionally. But most of the time, he’s just worried about you. But Derek’s emotionally constipated, and so he doesn’t know how to show it.”

Stiles hit his head against the steering wheel a few more times.

“Why is my life like this?”

Stiles knew Scott was waiting for him to elaborate, and he sighed.

“I was kidnapped and beaten up this week, and my biggest issue is the fact that I’m in love with werewolf- who’s fucking gorgeous- and I can’t tell him, and I’m flipping out just because I have to go spend at least two hours with him, trying to act like I don’t have a soulmark with his initials, all while watching movies with a bunch of other werewolves and supernatural creatures, just like I do _every other Friday night._ Because I’m part of a pack. And we have movie nights.

“And you know what? It’s not even a normal pack! It has a hunter and a kitsune and a chimera and a human and a werecoyote and a banshee and _two alpha werewolves!_ Theoretically that shouldn’t even work! You and Derek should be at each other’s throats! But _no_ , you’re all buddy-buddy!”

Stiles finally paused, breathing hard.

“Got that out of your system?” Scott asked, not unkindly.

Stiles nodded. “I think so. Thanks.”

Scott nodded. “Anytime. Want me to drive?”

“You are not driving Roscoe,” Stiles told him firmly.

“It’s not like I haven’t before!”

“I don’t care, if I can drive, I’m driving.”

Scott rolled his eyes, and Stiles pulled back onto the road.

They reached the loft five minutes later and Stiles took a few calming breaths before they went upstairs.

“You’re late!” Allison called from where she was laying with her head in her girlfriend’s lap.

“Traffic, sorry,” Stiles said.

Scott made a beeline for Kira, who giggled and kissed his cheek.

Erica looked him over, nose twitching.

“What’s got you freaking out, Stilinski?” She asked curiously.

“Ah,” Stiles said, drawing a blank.

“Are you still stressed about that assignment?” Derek asked, coming in from the kitchen.

Stiles jumped. “Uh, yeah. Right. The assignment that I have.”

“Don’t worry,” Derek said, patting Stiles on the shoulder as he passed. “You’ll do fine, like always.”

Stiles forced himself to move and _not_ look like the lovestruck idiot that he was.

He settled on the floor, leaning against the couch at Scott and Kira’s feet. Issac and Liam sat at the other end, and Lydia and Allison took up the other couch with their cuddling. Boyd and Jackson were on the floor, leaning against that couch. Erica sat on Stiles’ left, and Derek settled in on his right, pressed right up against him.

Stiles forced his heart rate to stay neutral- a room full of werewolves sucked when you were trying to hide something.

But he barely paid attention to the first movie, hyper aware of every time Derek shifted, the warmth of his thigh pressed against Stiles’.

It was easier to focus during the second movie, because Stiles had mostly adjusted. But then. Then Derek just _had_ to move.

“My arm’s asleep,” he muttered to Stiles, who moved slightly so Derek could free his arm from where it had been pinned between them. And Derek just. He moved it so it was resting over Stiles’ shoulders. Like it was a normal, everyday thing that they did.

Stiles wanted a pit to open up and swallow him whole.

“Sorry, is that okay?” Derek whispered in Stiles’ ear. “Need to get the blood flowing again.”

The blood was sure flowing in Stiles, just not where he wanted it to.

“Sure,” he managed, fairly evenly.

He didn’t know what the fuck happened in the movie after that, and he sure as hell had no clue what the third movie even was. All of his concentration went to making sure his heart stayed at a normal pace and his chemosignals didn’t give off any crazy signs that screamed _I’m in love with Derek Hale!_

Allison and Lydia were both dozing by the time the third movie ended, and Scott was fast asleep, snoring into Kira’s hair.

Derek stood up, and Stiles immediately felt cold. He shook it off and got off the floor, offering Erica an unnecessary hand up, which she took out of politeness.

Everyone helped clean up, even Scott, who stumbled around blearily. Having nine extra people over, all of whom ate a lot of junk food, usually ended in a pretty big mess.

“I’m gonna head home with Kira,” Scott told Stiles.

Stiles nodded, waggling his eyebrows at his best friend.

Scott rolled his eyes and pushed Stiles’ shoulder, and Stiles stumbled back, laughing.

Everyone slowly trickled out. Stiles was about to walk out the door with Allison and Lydia when Derek caught his wrist.

“Hang on, Stiles. I want to talk to you.”

Stiles heart rate skyrocketed, and there was no way that Derek didn’t hear it.

“I’ll see you guys,” he said to Lydia and Allison with forced casualness.

“Bye, guys,” Lydia said. She waved at them, then tugged a smirking Allison out by the hand.

“So, what’s up?” Stiles asked once the door was closed, rocking up on the balls of his feet.

Derek raised an unimpressed eyebrow at him.

“I should be asking you that. What’s going on with you?”

“What? Pfft, I’m fine! What would give you the idea that something’s wrong?”

Derek looked unimpressed again. “I don’t know, maybe the fact that this has probably been a very stressful few weeks, and you should be relaxing, but instead you’re acting like someone’s hiding behind the curtains, waiting to kill you.”

Stiles tipped his head to the side. “I don’t think I was that bad.”

“Really? What movies did we watch tonight?”

Stiles gulped. “Uh. _Star Wars Phantom Menace, Willy Wonka and the Chocolate Factory_ , and... _Happy Gilmore_.”

He totally guessed on the last one, and Derek looked almost impressed. Stiles felt slightly relieved.

“Wow. None of those were right.”

Stiles jerked back. “Come on, I know we watched a Star Wars!”

“Star _Trek_ , Stiles. Now seriously, what’s wrong with you? You smell...off. Like, you’re not giving off any chemosignals, but it’s like you’re purposely trying not to.”

Stiles sighed. “Look, I’m sorry. I’ve just been really stressed, lately. I have that stupid assignment due, and I was kidnapped, and-”

“Stiles. Stop lying. You’re not good at it.”

Stiles looked down, not meeting Derek’s eyes. He subconsciously rubbed his arm, right where his soulmark was.

“Did you get a soulmark?” Derek asked, eyes tracking the movement. Stiles dropped his hand immediately.

“No. Why would you think that? I don’t have a soulmark-”

Suddenly, Derek snatched his wrist.

“Hey! Let go!”

Stiles struggled, trying to pull his arm away. He couldn’t let Derek see.

“Derek, please. Let go.”

Derek frowned at Stiles, but he shook his head. He pulled up Stiles’ sleeve, and there it was.

The stupid wolf’s paw print with _D.H._ in the center. Stiles wanted the ground to swallow him whole.

Derek looked up at him slowly. Stiles breathed out slowly and met his eyes, trying not to let this crush him.

“You know, it’s considered rude to look at someone’s soulmark without permission,” he said, voice empty of emotion.

Derek swallowed. “What’s your name?”

It too Stiles a few seconds to process. That was definitely not what he was expecting.

“What? Derek, did you hit your head in the last five seconds? Do you have amnesia?”

Derek closed his eyes for a second, letting out a slow breath.

“Just answer me.”

Stiles looked at him in concern. “Uh. My name is Stiles, just like it has been since we met.”

“Your full name, dumbass,” Derek said, his voice taking on a slight edge. “Isn’t Stiles a nickname?”

Stiles nodded slowly, unsure where he was going.

“Yeah. I was named for my grandfather.”

“What’s your name, Stiles?” Derek asked impatiently.

“Uh. Mieczysław Stilinski.”

“How...how do you spell that?” Derek asked softly.

Stiles shook his head, immensely confused. But he started anyway. “M-”

“Oh thank _god_ ,” Derek breathed, and then he was using his grip on Stiles’ wrist to pull him and and press their lips together.

Stiles was completely lost. But Derek was kissing him and his lips were warm and soft and Stiles all but _melted_ against Derek, as cliche as that is.

He wasn’t even aware of closing his eyes, but Derek jerked back suddenly and they flew open.

Stiles stared at Derek, confused. Derek just stared at him, breathing heavily, before stepping back slightly and yanking up the left sleeve of his leather jacket.

There, right on his forearm, sat a soulmark identical to the one Stiles had, except instead of the initials reading _D.H._ they read _M.S._

Stiles reached out to touch it before he could think. He lightly traced the letters, then looked up at Derek.

“I’ve been freaking out,” Derek told him softly. “Because I’ve been in love with you. For I don’t even know how long. And suddenly I get this Mark, but it came over time- when I started realizing I was in love with you. And the night I really figured it out, the night you stayed here after being followed, the initials came. But it was an _M_ , not an _S_. And I was so confused, because I was so sure it was you. But it _is_ you.”

Stiles looked at Derek in surprise, hope blooming in his chest.

“Mine started about six months ago. I think I loved you way before that, but I didn’t...I didn’t realize. And I figured it out the other night, when you were over for dinner, and you were just laughing, and happy, and you were just so great about my glasses, and I just, I realized how much I love you.”

Derek smiled, and it was blinding, and Stiles’ heart was soaring.

“You really do look good with your glasses, Stiles,” he said softly.

Stiles tried to look away, but Derek caught his chin and held his gaze.

“I’m serious. Whenever I see you wearing them, god, I’m barely able to keep myself from kissing you.”

Stiles’ face was burning, but Derek looked so earnest that Stiles knew he meant it.

“Wait, the other night? When you realized,” Derek said, tilting his head at Stiles. “Is that why you choked on your water, and almost brained yourself upstairs?”

Stiles flushed, ducking his head. “Maybe.”

“And that’s why you were freaking out tonight.”

Stiles shrugged.

“There’s no FBI assignment, is there?”

“Nope.”

“And you weren’t going to tell me?”

“No.”

“Why?”

“I didn’t,” Stiles sighed, looking down. “I didn’t want to make you uncomfortable. You’re so close with my dad, and I thought that if I made things awkward by telling you, it would just ruin things.”

Derek gently placed his hand under Stiles’ chin again and lifted his head up. “Why would it be awkward?”

Stiles blushed again, but he couldn’t look away from Derek. “I didn’t think…” he gestured between them. “That you’d feel the same.”

Derek shook his head immediately. “Of course I do, you idiot. You have no idea. God, do you know what it’s like being a werewolf and being in love with someone who I don’t think loves me back?”

Stiles furrowed his brow, shaking his head.

Derek rolled his eyes. “The night I realized. It was because you came out of the shower, in nothing but a towel, and then you borrowed my clothes, and you came out wearing them and your glasses and I swear I popped a boner right then.”

Stiles blinked at Derek, surprised. Derek turned red, but he continued.

“I choked on my water because suddenly my stupid wolf instincts kicked in and all I could smell was you, and you were wearing _my_ clothes and do you know how possessive wolves get? Because it was bad, Stiles. And you came over to try and help me because I was choking, and I had to get as far away from you as I could because I was about to jump you then and there.”

Stiles couldn’t fight the grin that took over his face.

“You’re amazing,” he said, burying his face in Derek’s shoulder.

“So are you,” Derek responded, his strong arms wrapping around Stiles and holding him close.

“Wait, why didn’t you think I felt the same?” Stiles asked, pulling back slightly.

Derek shrugged. “Because you’re you. You’re smart and funny and hot-”

Stiles choked slightly. “Me? Seriously?”

Derek grinned at him. “Yeah, you. You’re fucking gorgeous.”

Stiles raised an eyebrow. “Look who’s talking. Your muscles have muscles, Derek.”

Derek turned bright red again. Stiles loved it.

“I work out, that’s all.”

Stiles rolled his eyes. “Whatever you say.”

Derek snorted, then inclined his head slightly. “Don’t think I don’t know that you’re dodging the compliment.”

Stiles ducked his head again, embarrassed.

Derek let it drop. “Can I kiss you again?”

“Hell yes,” Stiles said immediately.

He wound his arms around Derek’s neck and kissed him.

It was different than before. Before it had been chaste and sweet, and it started out that way this time too, but within a few moments Stiles opened his mouth to deepen the kiss.

Derek groaned and pulled them even closer together, tongue delving into Stiles’ mouth. It was hot and messy and perfect.

The door opened suddenly. “Sorry, Derek, forgot my- oh shit! You guys are making out! Agh! My eyes!”

Stiles and Derek ripped apart and found Scott backing up quickly, hand over his eyes.

“Sorry! Left my wallet. I’ll get it next meeting next month. Bye!”

Stiles watched as his best friend tried to walk out the door with his hand over his eyes and hit the doorframe. He cursed and walked out, and a few seconds later there was a crashing noise from the hallway.

Derek rolled his eyes to the ceiling like he was asking God _why_. Stiles snorted, leaning into Derek.

“Scott,” Derek called reluctantly, amusement lacing his voice. “You okay?”

“I’m good!” Scott yelled back. “Also, I told you Stiles! Bye!”

Stiles realized Derek was shaking, and he looked up at him to see him laughing silently. Stiles joined in after a beat, and soon they were just standing there, laughing so hard that they had to hold each other to stay upright.

“That was not how I imagined telling him he was right,” Stiles gasped when they calmed down.

Derek grinned and rested his head on Stiles’ shoulder.

“What was he right about?”

“That telling you wouldn’t ruin things.”

“Technically you didn’t tell me,” Derek pointed out, lifting his head to look at Stiles.

“Okay, but you didn’t tell me either!”

“Because I didn’t know your first name started with an ‘ _M_ ’! You can’t blame me for that.”

Stiles rolled his eyes. “Kiss me again and we’ll call it even.”

Derek’s eyes grew heated as he looked at Stiles. “Deal.”

Stiles barely had any time to smile before Derek was claiming his mouth. He actually stumbled backwards a few steps with the force that Derek kissed him. Once he got over his initial shock, though, he responded enthusiastically. He pushed Derek’s leather jacket off, moving his hands up underneath the t-shirt he wore.

Stiles nipped at Derek’s lower lip, and Derek moaned softly, crushing Stiles closer to him.

Every once in a while, one of them would pull back to say something, but instead they just dove back in for more.

He wasn’t sure how, but at some point he ended up on the couch underneath Derek. His plaid shirt was somewhere on the floor with Derek’s jacket, torn in two places- Derek had been in a hurry to get it off. But Stiles couldn’t bring himself to care as Derek kissed his way down Stiles’ jaw and throat.

He let out an embarrassingly loud moan as Derek found a sensitive spot at the juncture of his neck. He could feel Derek grinning against his skin, and then he lightly bit at the spot.

“ _Derek_ ,” Stiles whined softly, throwing his head back to give him better access.

He caught sight of the time. Scott has left almost an hour ago. It was nearly eleven-thirty.

He dragged Derek’s face back up to his own so he could kiss him again. It was messy and sort of desperate- all teeth and tongue and zero finesse, but Stiles loved it.

“It’s late,” he managed when the broke apart. “Maybe I should head home.”

Truthfully, he didn’t know where Derek was going with this- did he want Stiles to stay? Did he want to...or did he want to take it slow? Or did he-

But then Derek found another sensitive spot under Stiles’ ear, and Stiles lost his train of thought.

“Or,” Derek whispered hoarsely into Stiles’ ear.

He kissed Stiles again, and Stiles completely lost all ability to think for a minute.

“Or,” Derek repeated when he came up for air. “You could stay.”

His voice was rough and breathy and _wrecked_ and Stiles was so gone on this man it wasn’t even funny.

He made his way down Stiles’ neck, taking his time to suck bruises into the skin.

Stiles arched up, keening slightly.

“Oookay, I like that plan.”

Derek pulled away and grinned at him ferally. Stiles grinned back, then pulled him in for yet another kiss.

“Gotta,” he panted, pulling back. “Gotta text my dad, he’ll worry.”

“Well,” Derek said, punctuating it with a kiss. “You do have a tendency to get kidnapped.”

“Shut up, it's only been three times.”

“Four,” Derek corrected, leaning back and lightly tracing his thumb over Stiles’ lips. “Four times that I’ve been out of my mind with worry for you.”

Stiles cupped Derek’s face in his hands. “I’m sorry. I’ll try not to let any more murderous psychopaths kidnap me.”

You’re ridiculous,” Derek murmured, not letting Stiles get up. Instead, he kissed him some more.

It could have been five minutes, it could have been an hour, but Stiles finally pushed Derek away again.

“Phone. Text. Up.”

He pushed at Derek’s chest until he was grudgingly climbing off of Stiles.

Stiles felt cold and he whined, wanting Derek to lay back down.

“Mixed signals here, Stiles,” Derek said, smirking at him.

Stiles groaned, but he got up.

“Where’s my phone?” He asked.

“How should I know?”

“You’re a werewolf, can’t you smell it or something?” Stiles poked Derek’s chest.

Derek caught his hand and pulled Stiles in again.

“Right now, all I can smell is you,” he murmured, dipping his head to nip at Stiles’ lips.

“Derek,” Stiles said in a strangled voice. “Stop distracting me.”

“Mmm, but it’s fun,” Derek protested, nuzzling into Stiles’ neck.

“God, you’re like an octopus,” Stiles complained without any heat, curling into Derek even more.  
  
Derek finally let Stiles go and pointed to the counter.

“Phone’s over there, it just went off.”

Stiles blinked over in a haze, and Derek gave him a light push.

Stiles sighed and walked over to the counter, grabbing his phone.

 **Dad** : _movie night running late?_

 **Dad** : _Did you get kidnapped again Stiles I swear to god_

He quickly opened the texts, not wanting his dad to call. He knew he wouldn’t be able to keep a steady voice, especially not when Derek was right there and _oh shit he’s taking off his shirt dammit._

Stiles glared at Derek, who raised an eyebrow, feigning innocence. He walked behind Stiles, wrapping his arms around his waist and plastering himself against Stiles’ back, starting to kiss his neck again.

Stiles swallowed thickly, hardly able to focus with Derek’s warm body pressing insistently against his own.

“Hurry up,” Derek murmured into his ear

Stiles quickly typed out: _Too tired to drive home, crashing at Derek’s._

His dad answered immediately.

 **Dad** : _have fun, be safe_

Stiles rolled his eyes, but he didn’t have time to do much more before Derek was practically ripping the phone out of Stiles’ hand and kissing him so deep that Stiles’ head spun.

Derek turned them, crowding Stiles back against the counter, practically lying Stiles on top of it. He pulled away to rip off Stiles’ shirt, and then he was back, kissing Stiles hotly.

Stiles was left extremely disoriented when Derek ripped away again.

“Bedroom,” he panted. “Now.”

Stiles felt his body react even more, which he hadn’t thought possible.

Derek pulled Stiles away from the counter. They staggered almost all the way across the room before Stiles leaned in to kiss Derek again, then trailed his mouth down, pressing hot kisses against Derek’s neck, stopping to bite down lightly. Derek hissed, and Stiles grinned. He soothed the hurt with his tongue, then did it again, a bit harder. He could feel Derek tensing up, trying not to make noise.

He pulled away, looking into Derek’s eyes, the pupils blown wide.

“Bedroom,” Derek said again, voice absolutely wrecked.

Stiles smirked, and then he pushed Derek against the nearest wall and attempted to devour his mouth. He slotted his thigh between Derek’s legs, and Derek let out a throaty moan, unconsciously pushing his hips forward.

Stiles grinned triumphantly against Derek’s mouth, when suddenly he found them being flipped, his back hitting the wall roughly.

Derek glared at him. The effect was somewhat lost with his swollen lips and lust-blown pupils.

“Stiles,” he growled warningly.

Stiles let out a moan as Derek crowded in, squirming against him.

“Derek, come on,” he said desperately.

Derek’s lips quirked into a dangerous smile.

He leaned in and kissed Stiles softly, a complete contradiction to what had just been happening. Stiles was caught off guard, but he let it happen, the desperate frenzy easing slightly.

Derek eased back slowly, letting the kiss linger. He rested his forehead against Stiles’.

“I love you,” he whispered.

Stiles’ heart jumped. “I love you too.”

“Think you can make it to the bed?”

Stiles kissed Derek again, gently. But Derek, apparently, had other plans, because as soon as their lips touched, he was kissing Stiles so hard he saw fireworks.

They didn’t make it to the bedroom. At least, not the first time.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry it’s been so long!! I’ve been editing this chapter for forever and it’s still not great lmao. But oh well. Also, I probably should be working on the Merthur fic I have in progress...oops. 
> 
> Epilogue on the way!
> 
> Enjoy!

Stiles woke up with something warm and solid pressed up against his back, and he sighed contentedly.

But then his eyes snapped open, confusion setting in as he realized that he wasn’t in his own room. It was barely light outside- the room was mostly shadows. He could feel a panic building as he tried to sit up and realized something was holding him down.

He looked down and saw that it was an arm. A very muscular arm that was currently pulling him back into the warm body it was attached to.

“R’lax,” the person rumbled, pulling him impossibly closer. “ ‘S just me.”

Stiles blinked and exhaled slowly as the night’s events came back to him. He relaxed into Derek, smiling softly.

“Sorry,” he whispered, letting the tension melt from his body.

Derek nuzzled his nose into the back of Stiles’ neck sleepily, lightly tracing his fingers over Stiles’ soulmark. Stiles didn’t think he even realized he was doing it.

“Time s’it?”

“Early. Didn’t mean to wake you, just got a little disoriented.”

“Don’t worry about it,” Derek yawned, pulling away and stretching.

Stiles whined at the loss of contact, and he heard Derek huff a laugh. Derek laid back down, pulling Stiles back into him. Stiles turned over so that he was facing Derek and buried his face in his neck, wrapping around his soulmate.

“You going back to sleep?” Derek asked softly, wrapping his arms around Stiles.

“Mmm, that sounds good,” Stiles said, yawning.

Derek just nodded and laid his head on top of Stiles’.

Stiles let the sound of Derek’s steady heartbeat lull him back to sleep.

* * *

 

The next time Stiles woke up, Derek was gone. He had about two seconds to panic before he smelled pancakes. He slipped out of the bed, wincing at the cold air of the apartment, thankful that he had-at some point- put his boxers back on.

Looking around, he groaned when he realized that both of his shirts were downstairs, and both ripped. He resigned himself to grabbing one of Derek’s t-shirts and slipping it on before heading out into the kitchen.

“Morning,” he yawned.

“Morning,” Derek answered from his position at the stove, flipping a pancake. He turned around to hand Stiles a cup of coffee, and nearly dropped it.

Stiles raised an eyebrow, and Derek scowled at him.

“Whoa, dude, what did I do?” Stiles asked, raising his hands in appeasement.

Derek just narrowed his eyes and tilted his head at Stiles, and Stiles looked down. Oh, right.

“Forgot you had a thing about your clothes,” he said, shrugging. “I was cold.”

“No, I just have a thing about you in my clothes,” Derek specified, leaving the stove to kiss Stiles.

Stiles grinned slightly, almost taken aback but not quite.

Derek pulled away abruptly, scowling at Stiles again.

“You,” he muttered, pushing Stiles away without any real heat. “Are a menace.”

Stiles grinned at him crookedly. “What, am I getting you all hot and bothered already?”

Derek glared at him before suddenly kissing him again.

“Yes,” he growled against Stiles’ mouth.

Stiles laughed softly. “Why is that a bad thing? Because from my point of view it seems pretty good.”

Derek rolled his eyes. “Because I’m making breakfast and the pancakes are going to burn.”

“So turn off the stove,” Stiles suggested, winding his arms around Derek.

Derek groaned.

“Menace,” he muttered again, sort of walking them backwards and shutting off the stove.

“You love me anyways,” Stiles informed him, kissing him lightly.

“God help me, I do.”

Stiles figured out that kissing Derek was very difficult when he couldn’t stop smiling. Derek’s solution to that, apparently, was just to start mouthing hot kisses down his neck.

Stiles groaned softly when Derek pulled him closer, practically crushing them together.

He groaned again, but this time in disappointment, when Derek pulled away suddenly, tilting his head like he was listening for something.

“What now?” Stiles asked, sighing.

“I feel like I’m forgetting something,” Derek said quietly. “Did we have plans today?”

Stiles shrugged. “I was planning on playing video games with Scott and ignoring my feelings, but that got cancelled.”

Derek rolled his eyes, but the corner of his mouth turned up.

“No, I swear there was something...breakfast…breakfast!” He yelled, eyes going with with alarm.

Stiles jumped. “What about breakfast? You were making pancakes, I was distracting you…”

“No, Stiles! I forgot, Cora’s coming out and I agreed to meet her and Erica for breakfast.”

“Uh oh,” Stiles murmured. “What time?”

Derek glanced at a clock, then groaned. “Half an hour ago. And my phone’s off.”

Stiles snorted. “You’re going to be in trouble, dude.”

Derek clenched his jaw. “Stiles, you don’t get it! If I didn’t meet them at the diner, they’re going to…”  
He trailed off, eyes shutting in resignation. “Come over here.”

Stiles’ eyes went wide, and he looked down at himself.

“God, this is so embarrassing,” Derek muttered.

Stiles raised an affronted eyebrow and Derek scrambled.

“Not like that, that sounded bad! I just mean that...shit, they’re going to make fun of me so much. I told you I had trouble with the soulmate crap!”

Stiles snorted, but then he got a thought.

“I have to deal with Scott and my dad!”

“Yeah, but you have more than five seconds to prepare. Crap, they’re here.”

Stiles swallowed and made a half-assed attempt to hide-slash-bury himself on the couch as Derek opened the door.

“Derek!” Cora cried, and Stiles knew she was hugging him. There was a hesitant silence, and then-

“Oh my god, you smell like Stiles. Did you finally…”

“They did!” Erica interrupted. “Oh my god, how long after we left? Wait… he’s still here! Stiles!”

Stiles steeled himself, then popped his head up over the back of the couch.

“Heyyyy, guys.”

He was pretty sure that Derek’s tomato red face mirrored his own.

Cora eyed him up and down, a dangerous smirk on her face. Erica just looked purely gleeful.

“So, this is why you didn’t meet us for breakfast?” Cora asked teasingly.

“Shut up,” Derek groaned, burying his face in his hands.

Stiles approached cautiously. “So, this is very embarrassing, and I think I’m going to head out and let Derek deal with it now.”

Derek made an offended noise in the back of his throat, lifting his head to glare at Stiles.

Stiles shrugged helplessly. “Sorry, dude, but they still scare me.”

Cora and Erica looked much too smug at that. Stiles rolled his eyes, then looked at his scattered, torn clothes.

“I’m just...gonna borrow some pants, and get my stuff.”

He darted upstairs before Derek could protest, grabbed a pair of Derek’s sweatpants that were too big and slipped into them. In his hurry, managed to trip himself on the third to last step and he fell. Instead of hitting the ground, however, he was caught by Derek, strong arms wrapping around him.

“Thanks,” he breathed, thumping his head to rest on Derek’s shoulder as he slowed his pulse.

“You’re such a spaz,” Derek muttered, but Stiles could tell he was just teasing him.

“Shut up,” he muttered anyway. He reluctantly pulled out of Derek’s embrace and gathered up his phone and, as an afterthought, Scott’s wallet.

“You can throw those away,” he told Derek, gesturing at his ruined clothes.

Derek rolled his eyes, snatching his wrist and stealing a quick kiss.

“You’re seriously leaving me here with them, by myself?”

“It’s called self-preservation, Derek. This is the one and only thing that can make me desert you,” he answered, patting Derek’s cheek. “Scary, beautiful women who are about to make fun of me because they caught us in the morning-after glow.”

“You’re literally throwing me to the wolves,” Derek muttered.

Stiles snorted. “You’re the big bad alpha. You can handle it.”

“You guys do know we can hear you, right?” Erica asked, not sounding that concerned about it.

Derek rolled his eyes. “I hate you,” he mumbled to Stiles.

Stiles couldn’t help it- he broke out into a wide grin. “No you don’t, Sourwolf. You loooove me. Because we’re soulmates and-”

Stiles was cut off as Derek pulled him into another kiss- but this time, it was long and tender instead of the short peck it had been.

“I do love you,” Derek murmured when they separated.

Erica and Cora were making gagging noises in the background.

Stiles ignored them and smiled, kissing Derek’s cheek.

“And I love you too. But that doesn’t mean I’m staying.”

Derek cursed, finally resigning himself to the fact that nothing could save him now.

“Text me later,” Stiles told Derek, who nodded and made a face at him.

“Bye, Stiles,” the girls said in terrifying unison.

He swallowed and waved at them. “Bye, guys. Bye, Der.”

* * *

 

The door to the McCall house swung open a few seconds after he knocked. and Stiles chucked Scott’s wallet at him.

Scott grabbed it from the air without looking, instead staring at Stiles with a furrowed brow.

“You look like you got mauled,” he said by way of greeting.

Stiles grinned. “I know.”

“And you smell like Derek.”

Stiles nodded, grinning even wider. “I know.”

Scott’s face screwed up.

“ _Man_ , you had sex with Derek and you had to come right over here?”

Stiles raised an eyebrow and nodded to Scott’s wallet.

“Okay, technically I didn’t come _right_ over here. I spent the whole night at Derek’s after we had sex. Amazing, mind-blowing sex. Besides, I was just being a good friend.”

Scott wrinkles his nose. “Yeah, but couldn’t you have showered? You _reek_ of Derek.”

Stiles rolled his eyes. “And if I had your nose I’d bet that all I could smell would be Kira, am I right?”

Scott hesitated. “Touché. Come on in.”

Stiles grinned and pushed past Scott.

“I take it your night went well, then?” Scott asked resignedly as they sat in the living room.

“Very well.” Stiles waggled his eyebrows.

“And you’re here instead of at Derek’s because…?”

“Because Cora and Erica showed up and I didn’t feel like being caught in the middle of that I-Told-You-So session.”

“Smart,” Scott remarked, saluting Stiles.

“I know, thank you. I totally abandoned Derek, though.”

“He’ll get over it.”

“He’d better. Why are you looking at me like that?”

Scott was staring at him with a fond expression.

“I’m happy for you.”

Stiles felt the tips his ears burning. “Thanks, Scotty.”

“I mean it, Stiles. It’s about time, seriously. And when we tease you- because we’re all going to be teasing you guys- just know it’s because we love you, and because both of your pining was getting really annoying.”

Stiles groaned and threw one of the throw pillows at Scott. That’s what they’re for, right?

Scott, the bastard, just laughed and caught it, throwing it back at Stiles.

* * *

 

“Look, just be quiet whenever he stays the night, okay?”

Stiles squawked at his father, who laughed.

“Just kidding. Well, not really, please be quiet.”

Stiles’ face was burning. He had just told the sheriff about he and Derek, and now he was regretting it.

But the sheriff clapped him on the back. “It’s about time, son. Took you long enough to realize, but unfortunately you got that particular obliviousness from me.”

Stiles rolled his eyes. “Thanks, Dad. You working tomorrow?”

John nodded. “I’m not going in until ten, so I’ll probably see you in the morning. But I’m going to bed, so have a good night.”

Stiles waved his father up the stairs. “Night.”

After fifteen minutes of attempted reading, he forced himself to take a quick shower, then headed into his room.

He noticed the window was open too late, and he jumped about a foot in the air when he saw Derek standing in the shadows.

“Christ, Derek. Can’t you use the front door now, or at least not lurk in the dark, please?”

Derek stepped forward, smirking. “Where’s the fun in that?”

“Hmm, maybe not giving me a heart attack?”

Derek shrugged apologetically, but Stiles could tell he was fighting a smile.

“Sorry I never texted. The girls held me hostage until about fifteen minutes ago.”

“It’s been eight hours since I left.”

Derek just looked at him, and Stiles winced. “Sorry. I totally abandoned you.”

“Yeah, you did.”

Stiles sighed. “Sorry. Again.”

Derek took a few steps forward. “I’m sure you can make it up to me,” he said, a predatory grin pulling at his lips.

Stiles looked at him innocently. “Really? And how could I do that?”

“I’m not sure,” Derek whispered, almost nose to nose with Stiles now. “Any ideas?”

Stiles pursed his lips, pretending to think. “Hmmm. I don’t know, I mean, I could just…”

He let the sentence trail off as he closed the distance between them and kissed Derek. It was a quick, chaste thing that left him wanting much more, but he made himself pull away.

“How was that?”

Derek looked at him, unimpressed. “I think you might have to work a little harder than that.”

Stiles tilted his head playfully. “I don’t know, maybe you should show me exactly what I need to do.”

Derek growled at him softly, then lunged forward and crushed their mouths together.

Stiles grinned into the kiss and bit at Derek’s lips. Derek shoved him backwards in retaliation and Stiles lost his balance, pulling Derek down with him.

They tumbled onto Stiles’ bed, laughing the whole way down.

* * *

 

The sheriff had two cups of coffee waiting on the table when they came downstairs the next morning.

“Morning, boys,” he said without looking up from his phone.

“Hey Dad,” Stiles said cheerily, pulling a slightly embarrassed Derek along behind him.

“Morning, Sheriff,” Derek mumbled gruffly.

Stiles snorted and pushed Derek into a chair.

“Did you eat breakfast?” Stiles asked his father, looking at him closely.

“Yeah, I had a…” the sheriff waved his hand towards the kitchen noncommittally, resolutely avoiding Stiles’ gaze.

Stiles narrowed his eyes. “I may not be a werewolf, Dad, but even I know you’re lying. Come on, shouldn’t you know that you have to keep your energy up for work?”

“Stiles, I am the adult here-”

“Dad, I’m twenty-three. Legally I can boss you around without getting in trouble.”

John rolled his eyes in exasperation. “Look, I have to get to work-”

“You don’t have to be in until ten, Sheriff,” Derek interrupted.

John glared at Derek, but Stiles grinned at him.

“Thank you! Besides, you told me that last night. It’s only nine-thirty. You’re lucky I went to the store yesterday, Dad. I picked up waffles, and not even the really healthy ones. You can have those.”

“Sometimes I wonder who the father is,” John muttered.

Stiles heard Derek snort softly, and he elbowed him.

Five minutes later they were sitting at the table enjoying a nice breakfast of toaster waffles.

“Sheriff, if you don’t mind, I’ve got a question,” Derek started.

The sheriff nodded.

“Go right ahead.”

To Stiles’ surprise, Derek looked kind of reluctant to ask.

“So… last week, when I spilled the coffee on my shirt at work, you...you saw my soulmark.”

Stiles looked at Derek curiously when he trailed off. But the sheriff just sighed.

“You want to know why I didn’t tell you?”

Derek nodded slowly. Stiles watched the two of them with furrowed brows.

“Because you two needed to figure it out for yourselves. Honestly, we all knew months ago- maybe a year or two, even. I know Stiles said he didn’t even notice until six months ago, but it’s been pretty obvious for longer than that. And it’s been almost unbearably awkward to watch this whole thing happen and neither of you realizing.”

Stiles ducked his head in embarrassment, glancing sideways at Derek- he looked about the same as Stiles felt.

“Besides, I did tell you what his real name was.”

Derek blinked at Stiles’ father. “When?”

“The day before the kidnapping. We were talking about how he was stupid enough to not call someone when he was being followed-”

“Hey!” Stiles inserted indignantly. He was ignored.

“And I said ‘Mieczysław has a habit of getting himself into situations like these.

Derek stared at John.

“I thought you sneezed! I said bless you!”

John shrugged, but Stiles could see that he was hiding a grin. “I did what I could. Besides,” he said, standing up and gathering his bags. “If you had figured it out then, I would have lost the bet.”

Stiles and Derek’s heads both snapped to the Sheriff.

“Bet? What bet?” Stiles asked slowly, but John shook his head.

“I have to get to work. Have a nice day, boys. Derek, you’re back at the station tomorrow, don’t forget.”

“Wait, Dad. What bet?”

John was walking out the door and Stiles and Derek tried to follow him.

“John, what does that mean? Who was betting? On what? Us?”

John shut the door in their faces, leaving them to sigh in exasperation.

“Who do you think did it?” Derek asked after a few moments.

“All of the pack, definitely. Probably even Deaton and Melissa.”

Derek nodded. “And if I had to guess who started it…”

They locked eyes.

“Kira,” they said together.

Stiles groaned, planting his head on Derek’s chest.

“They’re gonna be so annoying about this,” he mumbled.

Derek lightly rubbed his back. “I know. And the rest of the pack is going to be pissed we didn’t tell them right away.”

“It’s not like we’ve had the time,” Stiles objected.

Derek shrugged. “You know they won’t care.”

Stiles rolled his eyes, but he raised his head and kissed Derek.

They had only been at it for a few (mind blowing) minutes when Derek stiffened.

“What’s wrong?” Stiles mumbled against his mouth.

“I- _shit!_ ”

“Argh!”

Stiles yelled as a bucket of freezing cold water was dumped over their heads. They sprang apart in their shock, gaping in disbelief.

The whole pack stood in Stiles’ kitchen, and Isaac was at the front holding a cooler and looking very smug.

Stiles and Derek glared at him.

“ _Why?_ ” Derek asked, clenching his jaw.

Isaac shrugged. “You looked like you guys needed to cool off.”

Allison laughed and high-fived him.

Stiles shook his head, shivering.

“Stiles, I didn’t know you wore glasses,” Boyd said suddenly.

Stiles’ eyes went wide and he snatched the glasses off, his face burning. He had totally forgotten that he was wearing them.

“I forgot you had those,” Jackson added curiously. “You used to wear them when we were, what, sophomores?”

“Freshmen,” Stiles muttered. “I usually don’t wear them anymore.”

He felt Derek pressing against his side and lightly tugging the glasses from his hand. Derek raised his hand and someone threw him a towel.

Stiles knew that the wolves in the pack could almost definitely smell his embarrassment, but that just made him even more embarrassed. It was a vicious cycle that had him about to bolt out the door.

“Breathe, Stiles,” Derek murmured into his ear, slipping the now-dry glasses back onto his nose. He left them on, mostly because now he could see faces instead of blobs.

Stiles let out a breath, relaxing slightly as Derek rubbed gentle circles into his back.

“I can’t believe you guys didn’t tell us!” Lydia yelled suddenly, taking the attention away from Stiles- probably on purpose, he knew, and he was thankful. Even if the attention only shifted from his glasses to his new relationship.

“We haven’t had the time,” Derek said calmly.

“You’ve had what, two days? How long has this been happening anyway?” Liam asked.

“Right after the pack meeting on Friday. And we were a little busy that night, so sorry we didn’t call you guys to tell you.”

Stiles smirked slightly, trying not to laugh outright.

“What about yesterday?” Kira asked.

“First of all, don’t act like Scott didn’t tell you when he walked in on us making out, and secondly, Erica and Cora held Derek hostage yesterday until eight o’clock at night. And after that we were also...busy. And here we are now, so.”

“Also, I don’t understand why you guys are acting all high and mighty,” Derek said, narrowing his eyes at the pack. “Because we heard that you guys have been betting on us for a long time. Which seems a little invasive to me.”

Stiles looked at their faces, all ranging from slightly guilty to mostly smug.

“They’re just pissed because my dad won the bet. And...” Stiles paused, carefully looking at the pack.  "So did Lydia,” he deduced.

Lydia shrugged. “Like it was hard to tell when you both started getting your marks. I made an educated guess.”

“It’s not fair!” Scott protested. “Her IQ is wayyyy higher than the rest of ours!”

“Dude, you should know by now, never bet against Lydia Martin,” Stiles told his best friend.

Lydia smiled at him. “You are forgiven.”

Stiles rolled his eyes and patted Derek on the back.

“Alright, you guys want to eat? I’ve got waffles, unless someone wants to cook.”

“We actually brought bagels as a peace offering,” Boyd told them.

He and Erica lifted two large bags as proof.

“So, who’s hungry?”

Boyd was almost trampled by the rest of the pack.

Stiles stood off to the side, watching fondly as Boyd struggled to ward off Liam, Allison, and Cora all at the same time.

If you had asked him during those first few months after Scott was bitten, where Stiles thought they would be all this time later, never in a million years would he have thought that he would be standing in his kitchen watching a bunch of werewolves, a kitsune, a banshee, and a supernatural hunter all fighting over bagels. He certainly never thought he would be a part of a misfit supernatural pack with two alphas- he hardly knew what any of this meant. And if he had been told that he was going to fall in love with Derek Hale- scary, borderline-stalkerish, asshole extraordinaire, actual _werewolf_ Derek Hale- he would have laughed in your face.

But here he was. Sometimes it dumbfounded Stiles. It had started off as he and Scott against the world, and now...now he was ducking as a bagel flew past his head, followed by a very precisely thrown knife. He always forgot to hide the sharp ones when Allison came over.

“I can smell the smoke,” Scott said jokingly, sitting on the table next to him. “What are you thinking about?”

Stiles elbowed him in the ribs, scoffing. Scott grinned.

“That night that I dragged you into the woods. The first night…”

“The night I was bitten?” Scott asked softly.

Stiles nodded, and Scott raised an eyebrow.

“Did you ever think that this...that we would end up like this?”

“You mean did I ever think we were about to fall into the deep end of the supernatural pool without really knowing how to swim, and somehow end up floating with a family made up of various mythical creatures?”

Stiles blinked at Scott. “That was… a very weird...yet very accurate way of putting it. So yeah, I guess.”

“I had no clue, man. But I’m really glad we did.”

Stiles nodded thoughtfully. “Me too.”

Stiles glanced at Scott, who looked back at him. Together, they watched the chaos in the kitchen.

Derek had Cora thrown over his shoulder and he was spinning her around, even as she struggled against him, laughing.

Stiles caught his eye and smiled, and Derek grinned right back.

He may have suffered- he’d been possessed, kidnapped, beaten, and more- but it had brought him this weird, dysfunctional family. He knew that once his father got out of work, along with Melissa and Chris Argent, they would have a barbecue in the yard, and the pack would most likely fall asleep in random places throughout the house. Once, Stiles had tripped over Liam when he somehow fell asleep halfway down the staircase.

Stiles was suddenly broken out of his daze as an ice cube was shoved down the back of his shirt. He yelped in indignation and surprise, twisting around and managing to fall off of the table. Laughter echoed through the kitchen as Stiles sighed in exasperation.

“ _Isaac!”_

 


	4. Epilogue

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this took so long!! It’s been a crazy few months. I have a new fic or two coming, so...yeah. Enjoy!

Stiles woke up slowly. His neck hurt and he realized he was sitting up, head hanging at an uncomfortable angle. He tried to move, but his arms were stuck. And his legs.

He was suddenly fully awake, jerking his limbs, trying to get free. He was tied tightly to a chair, and he looked around, confused.

He groaned when he recognized the cabin he was in, laying his head back and shutting his eyes.

Not again.

“Good, you’re awake!” Said the man in front of him, clapping his hands together and grinning.

“Before you start on the monologue, I have to ask,” Stiles interrupted. “Monster, wolf, human?”

The man raised an eyebrow. “What? What does that even mean?”

Stiles sighed. Human, then. Derek was so going to kill him.

“Do you know why you’re here?” The man asked.

Stiles rolled his eyes to the ceiling.

“Why are any of us here, really?” He deadpanned.

The man scowled at him. “You shot my brother, Stilinski.”

This was sounding familiar. Except last time, his dad was here.

“Ah. Drew Underwood, right? Look, I’m sorry, but your brother was about to kidnap a child. Like you kidnapped me. And he lived!”

“He’s lost all movement in his arm!”

Stiles sighed. He was getting a headache. He was bruised up from the fight that got him here- Drew and three large men had been waiting for him as he got off of work. He hit Stiles over the head and proceeded to beat him until he was unconscious.

“You’re going to pay for what you did to him,” Drew said matter-of-factly.

He pulled back his arm and punched Stiles hard in the face.

Stiles jerked, and he could taste the blood from a split lip. He spat out the blood, and looked at Drew.

“Look, Drew. I’m missing a meeting that you really don’t want me to miss. Let me go, and you can walk away from this.”

Drew smirked. “I don’t think so.”

Stiles’ phone rang before Drew could continue.

“If I don’t answer, they’ll start looking for me,” he warned.

Drew glared at him, then snapped his fingers. One of the other men brought him the phone.

“No funny business,” he warned.

Stiles rolled his eyes as Drew answered the phone and put it on speaker.

“Hey, Scotty.”

_“Stiles, where are you?”_

Stiles looked around. “Can’t make it tonight.”

He heard Scott sigh. _“And why not?”_

“I’m stuck at work.”

_“Seriously? Stiles, I thought you got off hours ago.”_

Stiles rolled his eyes. He loved Scott, but he knew that if he was to hint at anything, Scott would worry and possibly inadvertently give him away.

“Can you put Derek on? I’m assuming he’s there.”

Drew glared at him, and Stiles glared back. “I wanna say goodbye,” he whispered when Scott was switching the phone to Derek.

Drew relented slightly, but his scowl didn’t lessen.

“ _Stiles?”_

“Hey, babe.”

_“What are you doing?”_

Stiles licked his lips. “Same thing I was last time I missed a meeting, actually.”

Derek paused. _“I really hope not, because you were doing me last time you missed a meeting.”_

Stiles snorted, smiling at the memory. “Oh right. That was fun.”

 _“But where are you now?”_ Derek asked impatiently.

“Sorry. Same place I was the time _before_ the last time I missed a meeting.”

Derek was silent, and for a moment Stiles was worried he wasn't going to get it. But then he sighed.

_“Tell me you’re joking.”_

“No, sorry. I think I have a lead on the case we’ve been working, you know how it is. My hands are tied, and unless you plan on coming to get me, I’m stuck here.”

_“God damn it, Stiles, **again**?”_

“Yes, _again_. Why do you say that like it’s my fault?”

 _“Because you have a tendency to get-”_ Derek broke off with a huff. _“Nevermind. Tell me about the case.”_

Stiles eyed the other men cautiously. “It’s about a level four, I’d say. Definitely not a pack case. Actually, do you remember the case you were working with my dad that time?”

Derek sighed, long-suffering. _“Yes, Stiles, I remember the case.”_

“It’s kind of like that. Same location, actually. But much angrier and less stable. Reminds me a little bit of Matt when he was controlling Jackson. I’m the only one working it. There are at least four suspects, all male, twice my size. I think you could take them, might need my help. I would need my bat, or my gun. If they got ahold of me, they would definitely have guns, and they’d probably kill me-”

Stiles cut off with a grunt as Drew punched him again.

“ _Watch it,_ ” he mouthed.

 _“Stiles?”_ Derek’s voice was full of concern, and Stiles could hear the anger seeping in.

“Sorry, babe,” Stiles said thickly, blood dripping into his mouth. “Got a bloody nose. Look, Der, I gotta go. Love you.”

_“Stiles, wait!”_

Drew hung up the phone.

“That was almost too much information, Stilinski. You best watch yourself.”

“Why? Because I totally just gave him a message, telling him where I am and how to get me?”

Drew sneered at him. “Who was that, anyway? Your soulmate?”

Stiles smiled calmly. “Yes, actually. His name’s Derek.”

“I don’t care. But maybe we should have taken him, too. Tortured him first, made you watch.”

Stiles barked a laugh. “Oh, that would have been amazing. You guys would be dead before I could blink!”

Drew glared. “I doubt that.”

“Well, you really don’t want to mess with him. Derek’s the Sheriff now.”

 _And a werewolf, but whatever_.

“You think I care?” Drew snapped, raising his fist again.

Stiles winced slightly- his face was already aching.

But Drew lowered his hand, squinting at Stiles.  
  
“You don’t seem all that concerned that you’ve been kidnapped. Why?”

Stiles shrugged as best he could in his restraints. “It’s not my first time.”

“You shot a lot of other people?”

“Nah. Usually it was because of the people I hang out with, and once it was because my dad shot a man who was going to shoot his deputy. Who’s the Sheriff now. Derek again. Great guy, did I mention he’s my soulmate? I love him a lot.”

Drew clenched his jaw. “Has anyone told you that you talk a lot?”

Stiles smiled pleasantly. “All the time. Especially Derek.”

Drew rolled his eyes.

“So, you have any more guys in the woods?” Stiles asked conversationally, wondering how long it would take Derek to get there.

“Why would I? It didn’t take much to get you here, and it’s not like anyone’s coming for you.”

“So why haven’t you killed me yet?”

Drew looked at him like he was stupid. “You need to suffer first. I’ll start with your arm, just like you did to my brother.”

“Again, he was kidnapping a child,” Stiles pointed out, but it fell on deaf ears.

Drew advanced on Stiles once more, and Stiles tensed. He didn’t really want to be maimed too much before Derek got there.

Before Drew reached him, however, it sounded like something was scratching against the back of the cabin- a tree branch...or claws. It was followed by a deep growl that could be heard, even with all the windows shut.

Stiles let out a breath of relief and grinned.

“W-what was that?” One of the other men asked.

“It’s called wildlife,” Drew said, but Stiles felt a tinge of satisfaction as he detected a note of discomfort in his voice. “Go check it out.”

“What if it’s a bear?”

“A wolf, actually,” Stiles said nonchalantly.

“Shut up,” Drew snapped. “But either way, Ethan, go shoot it.”

“I’m not going out there!”

Drew rolled his eyes. “Fine. You go, Luke.”

“I don’t want to get mauled,” Luke objected.

“What, are you guys scared of the big bad wolf?” Stiles taunted, unable to keep the humor out of his voice.

Drew turned to him suspiciously. “What are you talking about? You don’t even have wolves out here.”

“Of course we do. Well,” Stiles amended. “Not the type you’re thinking. Look, wolves tend to get really protective of their mates. It’s really in your best interest to let me go.

Drew narrowed his eyes. “What are you on about?”

Before Stiles could answer, the door was bust off of its hinges. He grinned as Derek stepped in calmly, almost nonchalant as he looked around at the four guns trained on him.

“You okay?” He asked Stiles in a voice that could almost pass for casual- it probably did to the other men. But Stiles could hear the carefully controlled worry in Derek’s voice, could see the slight clench of his jaw.

“I’ll live. Think I’ve got a broken nose and a concussion.”

“Excuse me,” Drew inserted in an annoyed voice. “We’re kind of in the middle of something here. You must be the soulmate. Good, you can watch.” He smiled evilly and lowered his gun, and unsheathing a knife, slashing it across Stiles face all in one smooth movement. Stiles bit back a cry, looking at Derek.

Derek snarled loudly, stepping forward.

Drew blinked at him, smirking. Stiles grimaced- this was not going to end well.

“Sorry, did that upset you? I’ve heard you’re the Sheriff now. Are you going to arrest me?”

Derek tilted his head. Stiles could see him fighting to control his expression.

“If you’re still alive, then yes, you will be arrested for kidnap and attempted murder.”

Drew let out a cruel laugh.

“You really think you could take me? It’s four against one, and we’re armed. All you’ve got is a baseball bat.”

Stiles swallowed a laugh as Derek dropped the bat.

Derek casually looked down, examining his fingernails. He popped his claws, then made eye contact with Drew.

“I like my chances,” he said.

Stiles saw Drew’s eyes go wide.

“What the fuck?” Drew whispered to himself.

Stiles felt an odd bit of pride shoot through him, but it ended as soon as Drew pressed the knife into his throat.

“Don’t come any closer,” he warned shakily, breathing unevenly.

That was a bad move.

Derek lunged one step forward with a loud roar, dropping his fangs and flashing his eyes red.

Drew yelled, dropping his knife and backing up. The other three men all screamed.

“What-” Drew asked, voice considerably higher now. “What are you?”

Derek glared at them. “I’m his husband.”

Stiles grinned.

“Stay- stay back!” One of the men cried.

Derek raised an eyebrow and took a step forward, and then another.

He was almost at Stiles when the gun went off. Derek stumbled backwards with a cry, hunching over and clutching his stomach.

Stiles turned around as much as he could, and he found one of the men- Luke- still holding his gun up, his hands trembling and eyes wide.

“Dude! You just shot my husband!” Stiles said indignantly.

“You shot me!” Derek added needlessly, straightening back up with a grimace. “That’s going to hurt tomorrow.”

Stiles snorted. “You won’t even have a bruise, relax.”

“I was just shot, Stiles, shut up. Why do you keep getting kidnapped?”

“Why do you always say that like it’s my fault?” Stiles complained. “I am still tied to a chair! I’m the one who has blood coming out of their nose! This is victim blaming!”

“Christ, Stiles. I love you, you know I love you, but please just quit while you’re ahead.”

Stiles mock-pouted and stuck his tongue out at Derek, who just rolled his eyes fondly.

The men were all looking at them in fear.

“Great. Thanks, guys, now I’m never going to hear the end of this,” Stiles complained to the incompetent kidnappers behind him. “It’s going to be ‘how’d you get kidnapped again, Stiles?’ And ‘I got shot rescuing you again, Stiles!’ God, I’m just lucky Scott’s not here.”

“You know that they all know about this, right?” Derek asked him, and Stiles sighed.

“Of course they do. Don’t tell me you told my dad too?”

Derek rolled his eyes again, and Stiles groaned. One of the men chose that moment to rush at Derek, yelling and wielding a knife.

Derek batted him aside with only one arm, and that’s when everyone else apparently decided it was time to fight. Stiles blinked and suddenly Drew and the other two men were ganging up on Derek.

Derek managed to break away long enough to slice through the ropes holding Stiles’ right arm and to hand him a knife, and then Ethan was leaping on his back.

Stiles sawed through the rest of the ropes and pushed out of his chair.

Ethan and Luke were both unconscious on the ground, but Drew and the other man- Jason- were still fighting. Stiles could see that Derek had a few stab wounds, but luckily they didn’t seem too deep.

He scrambled for his bat, then snuck up behind Jason and cracked it over his head. He slumped down to the floor, and the next thing Stiles knew he and Derek had Drew concerned.

Drew was literally curled on the floor in a corner, whimpering.

“Don’t kill me!”

Derek sighed in exasperation, rolling his eyes.

“Look, man, I told you, you don’t mess with a wolf’s mate,” Stiles told him.

“W-wolf?” Drew stuttered.

Derek rolled his eyes again, baring his fangs.

“Werewolf. Boo!”

Drew practically squeaked, apparently trying to melt into the wall.

“Why?”

Stiles blinked at him. “Why is this happening? Why is he a werewolf? Why what?”

Drew just stared at them with wide eyes.

Stiles sighed and looked at Derek.

“Let’s see,” Derek growled. “Two months ago, you and your brother attempted to kidnap a child. You just kidnapped and hurt Deputy Stilinksi here, who happens to be my soulmate and husband, and you just shot and stabbed me, the Sheriff and a werewolf. So basically, you’ve just really pissed me off.

“Now, I won’t kill you. But you’re about to go spend a very long time in jail with a woman called Bella Farrow. If you don’t want me to knock you out, stay right there and don’t move.”

Drew nodded stiffly, and he looked much too frozen to move.

“Good.”

Stiles had a thought, and suddenly he couldn’t contain his snort. Derek looked at him, one eyebrow raised.

“He shot the sheriff,” Stiles said by way of explanation.

Derek shut his eyes in exasperation, shaking his head slowly. “Stiles, don’t say it, I’m begging you.”

Stiles looked at Derek gleefully. “But he didn’t shoot the deputy!”

“Oh my god,” Derek muttered. “Why am I in love with you again?”

Stiles grinned happily. “Because we’re soulmates and you secretly think I’m funny.”

Derek let out a fond sigh, facing Stiles fully. He gently cupped Stiles’ face in his hands, eyes turning serious and worried.

“Are you okay?” He asked softly, eyes scanning over Stiles’ injuries.

It was probably weird how much Stiles enjoyed Derek worrying over him. He didn’t do it often, but whenever Stiles was sick or hurt, he would start fretting. Stiles was pretty sure he loved it simply because he loved being the person to break through Derek’s tough shell.

“I’m fine,” he answered, waiting until Derek’s eyes made their way back to his face. He made sure Derek was holding his gaze when he brought his hands up to Derek’s shoulders. “Der, see, I’m okay.”

Derek breathed out slowly, resting his forehead gingerly against Stiles’.

“Can you just be a little more careful? You know how much this scares me, right?”

“I know it may seem like it, but I swear, I don’t try to get kidnapped. I made it a whole five years though, so that’s a plus. Also, it all turns out fine, right?”

Derek pulled back slightly.

“Stiles. You’ve got a broken nose and a concussion, you probably need stitches, and I’ve been shot. How is this fine?”

“Because you’re here. You got here.”

Derek hesitated.

“But what if I’m not next time? What if I can’t make it in time?”

Oh. That’s why he’s freaking out.

“Derek, if there is a next time, God forbid, you’ll get here. You always have. You always come busting through the door and you save the day.”

Derek rolled his eyes to the ceiling. “Jesus, Stiles. Do you have some sort of damsel in distress complex? Because there are so many other, much more fun ways to deal with that-”

“No, dumbass,” Stiles said, pushing Derek’s shoulder with a laugh. The corner of Derek’s lip quirked up and Stiles smiled at him. “I just trust you.”

Derek looked at him seriously again.

“I love you.”

Stiles’ heart swelled. “I love you too.”

He caught a glimpse of movement behind Derek.

“Can you just...duck for a second?” He asked.

Derek raised an eyebrow at him, but he crouched down.

Stiles hefted his bat and swung it with all of his strength. It connected into Drew’s face with a sickening, yet weirdly satisfying crunch. Drew dropped to the ground, out cold.

“Idiot,” Stiles muttered. “Who even tries to escape after all of that? I mean seriously!”

Derek just looked at him fondly before kissing him, obviously trying to be mindful of his split lip. Stiles melted into it, but as soon as his eyes were closed Derek was pulling away and grabbing his broken nose. He yanked it roughly and Stiles cried out in pain.

“What the fuck!” He yelled, clutching at it.

“I’m sorry,” Derek said, not sounding too sorry. “I had to set it.”

Stiles glared at him. “Thanks for the warning!”

“Trust me, it’s better when you don’t know it’s coming. Come on, we’ve got to load these guys into the car and get them back to the station, and you to a hospital. Or at least to Melissa,” he added before Stiles could protest.

Stiles sighed, leaning into Derek.

“Fine,” he mumbled into Derek’s shirt. “But you have to let her look at your bullet wound.”

“I’m already mostly healed,” Derek told him patiently, rubbing his back soothingly.

Stiles knew that his husband could tell that it was all catching up with him.

“You’re taking tomorrow off, right?”

Stiles could feel Derek rolling his eyes, even though he couldn’t see him.

“Yes, and we’re going to sleep in until Scott and the rest of the pack decide that they’ve waited long enough to see you. So, Scott will be at our place probably before eight.”

Stiles groaned. “Noooo. We’ll go see him tonight instead. And then we can sleep.”

Stiles felt Derek’s laugh rumbling through his chest.

“Whatever you want.”

* * *

 

Stiles let himself into Scott’s house without bothering to knock. They had given him a key anyways.

Almost immediately, he was stumbling back into his husband as his best friend collided into him, hugging him tightly.

“Stop _doing_ that,” he mumbled into Stiles’ shoulder.

“Why does everyone think this is my fault?” Stiles muttered back, but he pulled Scott close. “I’m okay, Scotty.”

Scott squeezed him a little tighter, and Stiles grunted.

“Alright, bud,” he wheezed. “Watch the werewolf strength. I don’t need a broken rib too.”

Scott huffed a laugh. He patted Stiles’ back and let him go.

He carefully inspected his face, clearly looking for wounds.

Stiles smiled through the split lip. “I’m good.”

Kira came next, hugging him tightly. “Be more careful, okay?”

Stiles groaned. “I swear to god, if one more person acts like I’m _trying_ to get kidnapped-”

“Uncle Stiles?”

A little girl came out of another room, sleepily rubbing her eyes. She brightened as soon as she saw him.

“You’re okay!” She launched herself at him, and he caught her in his arms.

“Yeah, princess, I’m okay. In fact, I’m surprised you even knew.”

“I wasn’t supposed to,” she told him happily. “But my hearing’s really good and Mommy and Daddy were talking about it with everyone else.”

Stiles heard Scott sigh.

“Allison, you know you’re not supposed to eavesdrop,” he chastised. “You were supposed to be asleep.”

“But Uncle Stiles didn’t come to say goodnight like he does whenever you guys have a pack meeting,” she protested. “And then I heard your phone ring and it was his ringtone, and I wanted to know why!”

“You are way too smart for a six year old,” Scott muttered.

“She takes after her mother,” Stiles told him, grinning at his god-daughter.

Kira kissed his cheek. “I knew I liked you.”

“Alright, I think we’ve given you enough time,” John cut in, getting up from the couch.

Stiles set Allison down and hugged his father.

“I’m fine, Dad.”

“I’ll be the judge of that,” Melissa told him, carefully inspecting his cuts as soon as John let him go.

“It looks like you’re going to need stitches,” she added.

“Told you,” Derek muttered.

Stiles glared at him.

“He also has a concussion,” Derek told Melissa helpfully.

“Well that much was obvious. Alright. I’ll stitch you up and you can go home. Derek, keep him awake for another hour, and then you can sleep as much as you want.”

“I’ll get the first aid kit,” Derek said, patting Stiles’ hip and dropping a light kiss on his cheek as he passed.

* * *

 

It was another two hours before Stiles managed to drag Derek out of the McCall house.

It wasn’t that he didn’t like his family fussing over him. He knew that they had been worried, and with good reason. But he had had a really, _really_ long day and all he wanted to do was go home and go to sleep. Preferably with his husband right next to him.

He fell onto their bed face first, then groaned at the discomfort it caused.

“Idiot,” Derek murmured fondly, gently sitting next to him.

Stiles felt a warm hand slowly rubbing soothing circles on his back, and suddenly his pain was melting away.

“Thanks,” Stiles mumbled into his pillow, feeling warm and sleepy already.

“At least get undressed,” Derek responded, lightly pushing Stiles.

Stiles grunted at him, then whined as he heard Derek huff and physically pull him into a sitting position.

“Stiles, you’re not sleeping in your clothes,” he said firmly.

“But why?” Stiles whined. “ ‘M tired.”

“I know, but your clothes are covered in blood. And so are you. Take a shower, get some clean pajamas on, you’ll feel better.”

Stiles glared at him, but it didn’t have any heat behind it. How could it, when Derek was looking at him like a concerned husband, eyes all worried.

“Fine,” he muttered. “But I’m sleeping until noon.”

“Whatever you want,” Derek agreed.

Stiles forced himself out of the bed and into the shower. By some miracle, he managed not to fall asleep under the water, and by the time he managed to get all of the blood out of his hair, he really did feel better.

He slipped on a pair of sweatpants and stumbled out of the bathroom, exhausted.

Derek was lying on the bed with a book.

“Contacts,” he reminded without looking up at him.

“Thanks,” Stiles murmured, swapping his contacts for his glasses.

He then turned around and stared at Derek fondly for a moment.

Derek, who had charged into the cabin and saved his life. Again.

Derek, who made sure Stiles was safe, made sure he wasn’t hurting, made sure he was comfortable.

Derek, his soulmate.

His husband.

Derek finally looked up from his book, raising an eyebrow. “What?”

“I love you,” Stiles answered softly.

Derek’s gaze softened, and he put his book on the nightstand, opening his arms. “C’mere.”

Stiles immediately moved over to the bed, all but collapsing on Derek’s chest. He buried his face in Derek’s neck, inhaling deeply.

“I love you too,” Derek whispered into Stiles’ hair.

It was quiet for a few minutes, Derek lightly rubbing a hand up and down Stiles’ back.

“You scared me today,” Derek finally admitted, his voice no louder than a whisper.

“I know,” Stiles answered, just as quiet. “I scared me too.”

Derek snorted at that. Stiles sat up, straddling Derek, so that he could see his face.

“Thank you,” he said.

Derek’s eyebrows scrunched together. “For what?”

“Saving me. I never said it before.”

Derek’s expression softened. “I’ll always save you. No matter where you are, I’ll come for you.”

Stiles opened his mouth, but before he could say anything Derek shoved his hand over it with a glare.

“I know how that sounded, don’t you dare say anything to ruin the moment.”

Stiles couldn’t help but laugh, the sound muffled by Derek’s hand.

He saw Derek’s lips twitch before he finally gave in and laughed along with Stiles.

“You set yourself up for that, babe.”

“Yeah, I know,” Derek sighed, but he was still smiling.

“Sorry I scared you,” Stiles mumbled after a bit.

“Don’t apologize,” Derek said immediately. “Just don’t do it again.”

“I’ll do my very best,” Stiles promised.

Derek winced at that, but he let it slide, instead reaching up and pulling Stiles down by the back of his neck for a kiss.

It was soft and sweet, and just what Stiles needed after his day. They stayed like that, exchanging warm kisses, for awhile.

Once they stopped, Stiles laid his head on Derek’s chest and they fell into a comfortable silence.

Stiles was just beginning to doze when he felt Derek shifting beneath him.

“Hmm?” He managed, forcing his eyes open.

“Just turning off the light,” Derek whispered.

Stiles just nodded sleepily, yawning and smashing his face into Derek’s neck.

He felt more than heard Derek’s chuckle.

“Sleep good, sweetheart,” Derek murmured, planting a kiss on the top of Stiles head, then wrapping his arms around him and holding him tight.

“Night, Der,” Stiles whispered, kissing the juncture of Derek’s neck.

He finally let his eyes fall shut, letting the steady beat of his soulmate’s heartbeat lull him to sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading!!
> 
> If u want to fangirl with me over Sterek or any other fandoms, follow me on Snapchat at anxiety_baker02


End file.
